Theory of Madness
by SeraphJewel
Summary: A promising student enters Flenceberg Academy, and dabbles into a forbidden art. This is Lezard's story.
1. Introduction

Disclaimer: I do not own Valkyrie Profile, or any characters.

**Theory of Madness**

_Introduction_

Steadily he grew used to seeing nurses in his home. He passed them as he went about his day but they did not speak to him, and often they turned their faces away on his approach as if the sight of him offended them. But really they were preventing themselves from crying in his presence. "Poor child," they would say to one another, "to lose his mother in this way."

He ignored them and they in turn stayed out of his way. They had nothing to do with him so there was no point bothering about them. His only concern was studying for the entrance exam into Flenceberg's magic academy. I was very ambitious to hope for acceptance at his age, but he knew he had the talent to pull it off. His tutor worked with him as many hours as his father was willing to pay for, and after that the boy would study on his own into the night.

Things were moving at a different pace since his mother fell ill. His parents used to go out at least every week to parties, or hosed one in their home. Now his mother rested in bed most of the day and his father did business in his home office. It was strange having them both home all the time; the boy was used to being on his own.

He awoke early that day, eager to begin his studies. The halls were quiet with only the faint streams of sunlight as his company. He entered the dining hall and knew at once that something was amiss: there were no servants making the morning meal. Puzzled, he went about the house looking for them and at last found them hovering near the door to his parents' bedroom.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. They turned, giving him a view inside. He could see the nurses packing up their tools, their heads bowed and shoulders slumped. He knew what was happening, and moved to enter the room

"Young master, you shouldn't be here!" A servant stood in his way, desperately trying to keep him out.

"And why not?" he snapped. "It's not like it'll make a difference! I hardly know her; what do I care if she dies?"

"Young master, you mustn't say such things about your mother!" Lezard ignored the servant, pushing on into his parents' bedroom. His father was there, an older bearded version of the son. And there on the bed, already in her funeral garb, was Lezard's mother. All the blood had gone from her face, her hair plastered on her forehead. Her eyes were vacant, staring but not seeing.

"Lezard, what are you doing here?" his father demanded. "This is not for children's eyes."

"I'm not a child, Father," said Lezard. "If she's going to die, I should at least be allowed to speak to her one last time." His father opened his mouth to protest, but gave in and stepped aside. Lezard moved forward, leaning close so he could whisper in his mother's ear. "Some mother you are. You pushed me off to a nurse, and then to a tutor. I was nothing to you… and you are nothing to me."

"Lezard..." She moaned his name softly, her eyes wildly searching for her son.

"It's too late," he hissed menacingly. Anger was bubbling up inside him and he didn't care if she was hurt by what he said. She deserved it, in his eyes, for never being a real mother to him. "You pushed me off at my birth, and now I'm pushing you off at your death. I hate you, and I hope you go to Hel." The words had barely left his lips. His mother's eyes went wide and she gasped, as if struggling for breath. Her body shuddered, and was still.

"Ranlia!" His father rushed forward, gently shaking his wife. "Ranlia!"

"Lord Valeth, please." A nurse pushed him aside, holding a feather over the lady's lips. The feather did not stir. "She's dead."

"Dead…" His father crumbled at the news, covering his face with his hands. Lezard stood silently by his mother's side, his rage toward her living only a few moments longer than she before it too died away.

He went through the motions of donning mourning clothing and standing by his father's side during the funeral. He did not shed a single tear; everyone assumed he was in shock. Perhaps he was, but for a different reason than they thought. He thought about the last words he spoke to his mother, and the incredible rage he directed to her.

Lezard studied harder than ever after his mother passed away. His father and the servants said it was to separate himself from the pain of her loss, but that was not the truth. He was determined now to get into Flenceberg. He had to know if he killed his mother.


	2. Academy

_Chapter One: Academy_

The faculty of Flenceburg Academy would speak of it for years. A boy only thirteen years of age managed to pass the entrance exam. Such a thing was unheard of, even from such an illustrious family as the Valeths. They held a conference to decide whether the boy should be allowed into the academy. Despite his surprising test scores, some of the faculty still felt that the boy was not mature enough to keep up with the course work. Others argued that such genius would be wasted if not nurtured at once. In the end they decided to give the boy a chance on a temporary basis. If he handled the first semester, he would be accepted as a full-time student. If not, he would be allowed in next year.

Naturally Lezard was thrilled when he received the letter, though not entirely surprised. His father held a party to celebrate but the boy he was celebrating did not attend. The servants were convinced Lezard hid himself away because many of the people at the party were friends of his mother, and he did not wish to be reminded of her. Once again, they were quite wrong. Lezard never attended any of his parents' parties in the past and was merely doing as he had done so many times before: staying in his study area with his tutor.

"Accepted into Flenceberg..." The tutor stared in wonder at the letter, turning it over in his hands to make sure it was real. "I am extremely proud of you, Lezard."

"You can keep the letter if you want," Lezard told him. "It's really thanks to you that I was able to pass. You gave me the love of learning and fed my mind." Not to mention that his tutor was the only person he considered a friend; Lezard did not mention that part out loud. The older man smiled at his young student and set the letter down on the table between them.

"Thank you for that, Lezard, but I must decline. I am already honored to have you as my student. This letter is for you, so you should keep it. Have it as a reminder of all you have done so far, and all you are still capable of doing." Lezard nodded solemnly and folded the letter back into the envelope. There was nothing more they could say to each other. They shook hands and went their separate ways.

His father had it planned so he would take Lezard to the academy when it was time for the first years to check in. Living in the city of Flenceberg made the journey only a few minutes' drive by coach. Lezard had different plans than his father and left the house early before his father woke up. It was easier for him to get there before the other students. His father wouldn't be pleased but that wasn't Lezard's concern. His only thought was getting to the academy and starting on his magical studies as soon as possible.

He expected the halls to be deserted, and he was close to being correct. A few first years beat him to the academy, though from the looks of them they weren't from Flenceberg. Staff members were shuffling through the dorms making final preparations for the new and returning students. He ignored them just as he ignored the servants in his home and headed to the room assigned to him. It was an annoyance to be required to share the room with another first year. He was accustomed to seclusion, and didn't take well to this idea of another person in the room.

Lezard had a few precious moments before the rest of the first years arrived. He made a point to find out where the library was. Once found, he attempted to utilize his remaining minutes looking through the vast collection of books. However, the librarian explained he would need his student identification to access any of the books, and that naturally would not be issued to him until later. It annoyed him considerably but also made him feel pleased that the precious books were restricted only to students. For the moment he could content himself with books he brought from home. He had read every book in his family library, but he hoped that with his magical training he would find something meaningful he passed up before.

What started as dull annoyance grew into impatient frustration as he was forced along with the rest of the first years to endure a welcoming ceremony. He only paid attention to prove he was a mature, intelligent student; in truth he found the whole thing unnecessary. He was glad to be dismissed back to his dorm with the truly important things: his student identification and his class schedule. The first years were supposed to take time to familiarize themselves with the school and each other before the older students arrived. Lezard certainly made a point to explore, but as for friends he didn't bother. He never had much on the way of friends in the past and he certainly felt in no need of them now. Besides, he was already set apart from the rest of them because of his age: he was at least one year younger than the other first years.

He didn't care about blending in, or standing out. The letter he received accepting him into the academy warned him that he would have to pass all of his mid-term tests in order to stay in school. If he failed, the faculty would dub him too young for the workload and make him start over next year. He simply could not wait that long, and so he would study hard and pass those tests when they came.

One step at a time, he would draw closer to his goal.


	3. Winternights

_Chapter Two: Winternights_

Those that interacted with Lezard Valeth agreed that he was a strange boy. He made absolutely no effort to befriend anyone, not that they would want to be friends with a boy like that. All people from the upper class were a bit stuck up, but Lezard acted so to everyone except the adults. The students didn't complain, though, since most of the time the Valeth boy chose to be by himself, and as long as he was left alone he seemed content enough.

The boy assigned as Lezard's roommate at first bemoaned his fate, but in time he took advantage of his unique position. Lezard more or less ignored his presence when they were together, and other students gathered around to hear what sort of things the Valeth boy did. Though they were unanimous in their dislike for him, they couldn't help being curious as well.

"He studies all the time," the boy reported to his eager audience. "The mid-term tests are months away and he's already preparing for them."

"I imagine so," said an older student. "He's younger than most first years. He probably needs the extra time." The older students shared a chuckle, but the first years did not. They all had seen Lezard in class and knew he was keeping up with everything in spite of his age.

"He's going to burn himself out," predicted another older student. "It's happened before in the first years." His fellows murmured their agreement. "They overload and then collapse under the pressure. It's the worst at test time. You'll see."

Lezard was a very intelligent boy, but even if he were not he would still know that the other students in the academy didn't like him. He didn't care he was unpopular; he didn't come to the academy to make friends, after all. In his opinion it was better that the student population left him alone. They would just distract him from his work.

His daily routine secured that he would have as little contact with the rest of the student body as possible. He awoke before anyone else to bathe and dress, and spent the time before his first class in the library. He took his meals apart from the students as well, but he was by no means alone. On the first day, a teacher took pity on his solitary luncheon and sat beside him. Now he always ate with the teachers.

No one tried deluding themselves into believing that Lezard quickly rose to the top of his class because of his association with the teachers. Nor did they bother explaining it by his upper class status and the fact that he had an "advantage" by being a Valeth. He was succeeding all on his own. If he wasn't such an unpleasant person he would've been admired for this incredible feat; as it was, the other students found his success an insult.

The only comfort they took was the fact that however smart this boy was, he was still human. He was pushing himself far too hard, and the semester had barely begun. He would burn out, they assured each other. There was no way he could keep up the mad pace he started on.

---

The air was getting colder, and for the moment activity in school was at a stand-still. It was with great relief that the students left the chilly halls to return home for Winternights. The break was welcome, for soon after their return they would have to take their mid-term tests. Only one student was not looking forward to going home.

Lezard hated to leave the academy and its vast offering of knowledge. He had no friends at the academy to miss. He remained just as separated from everyone else as he always had been, perhaps more so thanks to his position as top of his class. He had highly disappointed his classmates when he did not crash and burn as they hoped he would. Now with the threat of five days away from the academy, he feared he would drop from the top spot on their return.

He had no choice in the matter, though. The school would be deserted for the festival, and refusing to go home would do much more harm than good. So with a heavy heart he put away his notes and grudgingly returned home with his father. The carriage ride back was draped in silence.

The servants were busy preparing for the festival, and Lezard was more than glad to get out of their way. He would go through the motions as he did every year, honoring his ancestors and praying to the gods, and having a birthday right in the middle of the festival. He only involved himself in the preparations this year because of his mother: Winternights was a good opportunity to see if he could find out the true cause of her death.

"Lezard, I don't think I've ever seen you this willing to participate in a festival," his father commented. "Your mother will be so pleased."

"I have always had great respect for the dead, Father," Lezard replied, "and now that Mother is departed as well I wish to do all I can to show how much I honor them." Luckily his father didn't notice the smirk on his face as he said this. He was certainly not faking his interest in the festival, but he did lie about his reasons.

Lezard became much more involved in the festival than he had ever been for any previous celebrations. He volunteered to give offerings to the gods, he joined his father at the feast, and at least looked as if he was celebrating his ancestors. It was all an act, of course. He wanted to please his ancestors so he could find out about his mother's death. When his father was asleep he would call to them, asking them to give him some sort of enlightenment.

His birthday passed by with a modest party; it always turned out that way, since the day fell during Winternights. The festival drew to a close and he joined his father in thanking the ancestors and the gods. His thanks to them was not quite as sincere as it should have been. His ancestors gave him no help, and he was no closer to understanding if he had caused his mother's death. As usual, he would have to find out the truth on his own.


	4. Friendship

_Chapter Three: Friendship_

However desperately his schoolmates prayed for his downfall, Lezard Valeth passed through the first year at the academy at the top of his class. He loathed returning home in the summer with only his inadequate family library to sustain him. The silver lining in the otherwise cloudy sky was the foreign trade during Midsummer. He could have access to knowledge from places such as Hai Lan, an island he hadn't visited since before his mother passed away.

Long ago Lezard had grown used to staying out of everyone's way. When he was a child he and his nurse would play quietly in a corner room or outside if the weather permitted, and of course later he spent his time with his tutor. It was a relief to cloister himself again; he had never quite grown used to his roommate at the academy. That was probably the one thing he looked forward to in going back home: he would be left alone.

His father grew very busy when merchants came in to trade. Even so, he noticed that Lezard never had any visitors, and the young man very rarely journeyed far from his room. The servants reported that the only change they noticed in him was his demand for paper and ink for notes he was taking to keep his mind fresh. Lord Valeth was very pleased with how determined his son was in his studies and decided to leave him be, remembering how deep into his own studies he had been at that age.

The summer passed on lazily, with only the anniversary of the mother's death to disrupt it. Lezard happily returned to the beloved academy halls with new books he received during Midsummer. He arrived as early as was allowed in order to arrange his new room as he wished. Perhaps next year he would be allowed to have a single room and be done with roommates. First years were wandering the halls as he had done; they all looked his age, and he felt a smug pride knowing he already had a year's worth of education under his belt.

The classes he had to take this term did not look like they would bring him much closer to his goal, but he learned from his tutor to appreciate all forms of knowledge. He was back in school and as long as he was learning something new he would be happy. A small part of him felt frustrated at these delays, but he had another Winternights coming up to ask his ancestors for help. He wouldn't give up however many obstacles were placed in his way.

Once again he immersed himself in his studies. Those in his year seemed to have resigned themselves over the summer to having him as the best in the class. The students fell into a routine of class and study, and daily gatherings to hear what Lezard's roommate had to report. The stories of Lezard even reached some first years, though they took it as inspiration.

As always, Lezard ignored everything around him except his studies. He found places to avoid the other students and do his work in peace. His favorite refuge was the library: it was quiet, he was surrounded by books, and any other students around couldn't speak above a whisper. One afternoon he noticed the book he wanted to read was missing from its shelf. Some person had the nerve to take it off its shelf and read it for themselves. It was the only copy the library had, which did not improve his mood.

"Who else in this school is interested in the spirit world?" he wondered aloud. The puzzle stuck with him as he went through his day. He was not interested in sharing his knowledge, but if this person had something new to offer it was a different story. He was deep in his thoughts and didn't notice the girl until he collided with her.

"Hey, watch it!" she snapped, her books tumbling to the ground. Lezard said nothing; he was staring at one of the books the girl dropped. It was the very one he wanted to read! His eyes went from the book to the girl, studying her thoughtfully. She was reasonably attractive and had long blonde hair that fell to her waist. "Well?" The girl glared at him, hands on her hips. "What are you staring at?"

"Oh, nothing." Two boys nearby were already getting on their knees to pick up the girl's books. Lezard reached for the book he was interested in. The girl watched him but he just ignored her and moved on.

"Excuse me!" she called after him. "You can't just walk away with one of my books!" He turned, regarding her as one would regard an unsightly spot on the rug.

"You are a first year," he said to her. "This book is far too advanced for you."

"How dare you!" the girl fumed. "You don't look much older than me!"

"Perhaps not, but at the very least I am more _mature_." The girl would've retaliated with a spell if a teacher didn't show up at that moment. Not wishing to soil his clean slate, Lezard dropped the volume and walked away.

Perhaps because of his mother, Lezard never grew to care much for females. At best he felt indifferent toward them; at worst he hated them. Of women he knew very little apart from what he read in books, and he was not eager to learn more. That a female would show any interest in things he found interesting did not sit well with him.

He began to see that girl much more often around campus. He probably passed her by three times a day before without giving her a second glace; now he actually _noticed_ her. He buried himself even deeper in his studies to drown out the dull throb of annoyance he felt whenever he saw the girl. If indeed he killed his mother, he didn't wish the same thing to happen again before he finished his education.

Alas, the gods were against him. At the evening meal he went for the teachers' table to sit with them as he always did. For the first time, another student was already at the table. The throb of annoyance started the moment he set eyes on her. She noticed him and gave him a nasty look.

"Lezard, please sit," one of the teachers invited. "I'd like you to meet Mystina. She's a promising new student." The two had to hide their dislike for each other as they shook hands. Over the meal he learned a few things about this new girl: she had turned fourteen not too long before she was accepted at the academy, she was from an upper-class family, and she lived in the city very close by.

"If I knew you were the 'boy genius' they wanted me to meet, I would've declined their offer to sit with them," Mystina told him once the teachers were gone.

"There's no need for us to talk to one another," he said, rising to his feet. "Sit somewhere else from now on."

"You don't have to be so rude," she huffed. "What sort of gentleman are you, to say such things to a lady?" She flipped her hair over her shoulder haughtily.

"You are far from being a lady, _little girl_, and I do not waste my time with fake pleasantries. My only interest is learning; other people just get in the way." To his great surprise, she laughed at that.

"It's funny how much you and I have in common! I only care about knowledge too, and getting as much of it as I can." Lezard blinked, not knowing what to say. Now that he thought about it, they _did_ have quite a few things in common… "You know, if you're really determined to read that book I checked out, I'll ask the librarian to reserve it for you once I'm finished."

"Oh…" His mind was reeling. He'd never experienced something like this and had no idea how to respond. "That's good of you," he said awkwardly.

He wasn't aware of it then, but that day Lezard Valeth made a friend.


	5. Sophos

_Chapter Four: Sophos_

Lezard still did not think very much of female humans. Mystina was an exception only because she was just as devoted to study as he. At first he did not want to classify their arrangement as a friendship; rather, he liked thinking of it as an agreement between two like-minds for a common interest. Gradually they started spending more time together as they shared and compared their individual findings. He found himself sitting with her at meal times: not necessarily with the teachers, but certainly not with other students.

"Hello, Mystina," he greeted her, setting his things down at her table. The act was now automatic to him, whereas earlier in their agreement she practically had to force him to sit with her. "We are into studies of Yggdrasil, and yesterday had a fascinating discussion of the elves."

"Oh!" The girl's eyes lit up eagerly. "I hope you took good notes!"

"Of course," he assured her.

"Ohhh, Lezard, you have to let me read those notes!" Mystina cried. "I'm so interested in the World Tree" He couldn't help smiling a little at her enthusiasm even if her request annoyed him. He never shared his notes with anyone.

"Can't you wait until you study Yggdrasil for yourself?"

"No, no, no! The sooner I get information the sooner I can focus on other research!" She had a point, Lezard admitted. "Come on, Lezard. It's not as if you'll be cheating, since I'm not even in your class!"

"That's true," he agreed. Not knowing why he did it, Lezard took out his notebook and slid it across the table. Mystina looked so happy to receive it he wondered if she was going to hug him. "I will need that back in time for the class, obviously."

"No problem." She flipped through the notes, her expression turning to admiration. "These are so well-organized! It shouldn't be any trouble for me to copy them down for myself!" She put the notebook in her own bag. "Oh, and Lezard? If you find any good books on the World Tree, you'll tell me, won't you?"

"Yes, yes, I will." He sighed, turning his attention to his food. Letting her copy his notes was yet another thing he was doing for Mystina that he never did for anyone. It wasn't completely a one-way road, though. Mystina offered him some very useful material she acquired using her charm, and she was gracious enough to offer books from her family library if there were any he hadn't perused already.

He had to face the fact that he had indeed made his very first friend. It in no way affected his study habits or ultimate goal. Neither of them explained why they were interested in whatever they were studying. Lezard counted himself lucky to find someone that wouldn't nose in on his personal business. All she cared about was herself and her own ambitions, and that was fine since he worked in a similar way. They rarely hung out together outside swapping information and discussing what they learned. Others might not classify such a thing as "friendship", but it suited them.

Time moved differently now that he had someone to speak with again. They would engage in excited discussions and lose themselves until one of them noticed the clock. Sometimes they got into small competitions with each other, such as who could read a certain book faster or how many facts they could spout off without pausing. If only all the other females acted like Mystina, Lezard wouldn't think so poorly of them.

"Hey, bookworm!" He sighed, tearing his eyes away from the volume he was currently buried in. His eyes scanned her up and down thoughtfully. She had on her winter coat and one of her many admirers was carrying her bags.

"You're leaving early," Lezard observed.

"I can't miss the parties!" she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "I've been invited to so many I don't know how I'll find time for them all!"

"How tragic for you," he said dryly, his eyes moving back down to the open book. Of course Mystina would have none of that and called his attention once again.

"You're welcome to come by and look through the library whenever you like. My family will be out so you'll have privacy." She certainly knew how to catch his interest. "Of course," she went on, "I'll have a servant there to be sure you don't take any of the books for yourself."

"Oh, come now," he said with a snort. "Do you truly believe I would sink to common thievery? I may have a thirst for knowledge, but I'm certainly not desperate!"

"I was only teasing, bookworm! Anyway, do try to enjoy yourself, and have a happy birthday!" She waved to him and off she went, her admirer eagerly scurrying nearby with her luggage.

When it was time for Lezard to go home for the holiday, he put his few bags in the carriage but chose not to climb in. He told the driver he wanted to walk instead. Just before the holiday they were discussing familiars in class, and he wanted to be the first to call one up. Theory was all well and good but he didn't want to wait until the second term. As Mystina would put it, the sooner he mastered this the sooner he could focus on other things.

Familiars were creatures magicians called upon to aide them. The entire school knew that Headmistress Lorenta had a bird as her familiar; they saw it often flying through the hallways or delivering messages. It would help his goals a great deal to have a helper like that. He found a quiet place to concentrate, closing his eyes and holding out his hands palm up as the book instructed. In theory, if he focused his spirit and magical energy, his familiar would come to him.

He knew it had to be working. The creature's feet were lightly touching his palms. But before it could fully settle, a very soft noise broke his concentration. Frustrated beyond belief at the interruption, he searched for the sound and came upon a very small ball of fuzz. He knelt closer; the ball of fuzz was in fact a small kitten barely two days old. He forgot all about his familiar and scooped up the baby cat.

"I've got you, little one," he murmured gently. The feline felt cold in his hands. He rubbed its body to keep it warm and hurried on home. If it hadn't cried and caught his attention, it would've most likely died. Lezard cradled the shivering animal carefully in his hands and carried it the rest of the way home.

He did not like spending time with humans, but his attitude toward animals was quite different. The only thing close to relaxing he did was go tend to the family horses. He could trust animals to his darkest secrets, and in turn they would do tasks for him. This kitten he found would be very useful to him. True a familiar could fight with him, but this cat would be much less conspicuous if he sent it on errands.

"You called to me, little one," he said, petting the small animal. "You were wise to ask for my help… so I think Sophos is a good name for you." The cat was not a familiar, but Lezard had a feeling it would be just as useful.


	6. Necromancy

_Chapter Five: Necromancy_

The third year of his academic career began a few months before his sixteenth birthday. As usual he breezed through the previous year's tests and retained the coveted position as top of his class. So it was when he entered the school for his third year, Lezard was eager for a challenge. There was no question he learned a lot from the course material offered, but he felt there was still more he could handle. He eagerly scanned through all of the classes offered while he waited for his schedule.

"There you are, Mr. Valeth," said the lady at the desk, sliding over the schedule. He paid her no attention; his eyes were focused on one of the offered classes.

"What is this one: Necromantic Theory?"

"Oh, it's a class dealing with the theories of necromancy… you know, sorcery calling upon demons and the dead." An eager gleam came to Lezard's eye. He had no idea such a class was available, or he would've taken it sooner. It was exactly what he needed to complete his goal.

"What must I do to sign up for this class?"

"Ah… well… you'd first have to age two years. Classes on necromancy are restricted to students age eighteen and older."

"_What_!" Lezard was usually not one to get excited, but this was an injustice he could not stand for. "You're joking! That is discrimination! Why on earth would they impose such a restriction?"

"I believe it was the combined decision of the headmaster and the instructor," the lady told him calmly. "Apparently they felt that such magic was far too advanced for younger students, or something like that." She shrugged her shoulders, tapping his schedule card. "Anyway, there's your schedule. Have a good semester."

"Right," he snorted, snatching the card and stalking out. So, the headmaster was the one who decided this. He would not let such foolish rules stand in his way, and he was in no mood to wait any longer to know the truth. Lezard headed for the headmaster's room to plead his case. The school allowed him to come when their rules spoke against it; surely the rules would be bent for him a second time.

Unfortunately, a teacher was already waiting outside to see the headmaster. "Well, the year hasn't even started and already you've been sent to the headmaster?"

"No, sir. I wish to talk to her about a certain class I wish to take," Lezard replied.

"Oh, really? You want more work than you're being given? That's very industrious of you," said the teacher with a laugh. "I'm glad to know some students your age take interest in their work. Even some of my students don't work as hard as they should."

"What do you teach, sir… if you don't mind me asking?" Lezard wondered.

"Necromantic Theory." Lezard couldn't hold back a smirk. It seemed as if the gods were working for him today.

"Sir…" Lezard had to choose his words wisely if he was to get what he wanted. "I understand that your class is restricted to students under eighteen, but I am very interested in the subject. Do you suppose it would be possible for me to sit in on just one of your classes? I promise you I will not ask you any questions or take notes." He was sure that would convince the teacher.

"You must be very desperate for knowledge. I admire that. I suppose… I will allow it, just one time, but don't take any time out of your real schedule. And I'll be keeping an eye on you to be sure you don't take notes. Sound like a deal?"

"Yes, of course! Thank you very much, sir!" He was told the room number, and he rushed off before the teacher could change his mind. Once he was safely away, Lezard burst out laughing. Some people were so gullible! Just because he said he wouldn't take notes during the class didn't mean he wouldn't write everything down later. This year would be a promising one after all.

-----

No one noticed the fifteen-year-old sitting among them. Lezard snuck into the crowd while they were all finding their seats and chose a dark corner in the back so he wouldn't be noticed. He had plenty of experience growing up in making himself unnoticeable. He sat quietly but intently, focusing on what the teacher was saying so he could copy it all down later. Lezard had already attended the Necromantic Theory class several times; naturally, he made sure the teacher wasn't aware of it.

This lesson was especially important for him, because they were finally learning how to call forth demons. He thought it would be a good start on his path to discovering the truth. Surely demons would know how his mother died. Even if they knew nothing about it, his thirst for knowledge would rive him into calling them. Once the class let out he hurried to a quiet place to write everything down while it was fresh in his mind.

"I will do it tonight," he decided. "The sooner, the better. All I need is a place to perform the summoning." He would need a fairly large area, and the assurance that no one would walk in on him. This would have to be carefully planned if it had any hope of succeeding.

That evening he waited until his roommate dropped off to sleep before climbing out of bed. He knew very well he was breaking a rule being out of his room after hours, but he was certain he wouldn't get caught. He carried all of the necessary tools in a bag held close to his body so the contents wouldn't rattle. His familiar was keeping watch for the headmaster's bird. Everything was set, and all that was left to do now was to put theory into practice.

He came to his chosen area and set down the bag, unloading it quietly. According to his notes, the first step was to draw a circle that would act as a gate between Nifleheim and Midgard. Lezard kept one eye on his instructions as he completed that first task, his ear straining to hear any noise. When that was finished he stood back and lifted his hands palm forward. The goal now was to focus his magical energy within the circle and guide the demon into Midgard.

"Demon from another world, I summon you here by all the power within me. Answer my call and come now before me!" He knew it was working the moment the words fell from his lips. The area within the circle began to glow a dull red color, and he thought he could hear the cries of demons struggling to find their way to the gate. Wild with excitement, Lezard focused even stronger. "The gate is open for you! Come before me, and give me what I seek!"

The light grew brighter until it seemed to fill the whole room. He could hear the demons clearly now, howling and clawing their way upward. Lezard winced at the noise and fought to keep his concentration. They were screaming so loudly now he was certain someone would hear. His energy was leaving him and the screams would not relent. The light seemed to be fading again and he hadn't the strength to care. His knees gave way, and then there was darkness.

His eyes opened to a blurry world. He had a pounding headache and the echoes of the demon screams still resonated in his ears. Groaning, he lifted himself up to a sitting position to look for his glasses. He found them on a table nearby and slipped them on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his forefinger. It appeared that he was in the infirmary, though how he got there was a complete mystery.

"Ah, you're finally awake." He turned and watched the school doctor approach his bed. The doctor reached out and placed a hand on Lezard's forehead. "You're feeling much better as well."

"What happened?" Lezard wondered, rubbing his aching head.

"You were found early this morning, lying unconscious in the courtyard. You were running a fever so you were brought here." The doctor gave him a penetrating stare. "What were you doing out there?"

"I…" Memories of last night rushed back on him. The light, the screaming, his body weakening and crumbling to the ground… "I don't remember," he lied.

"Hm…" The doctor frowned, but didn't press for more. "The important thing is that you're all right, and it doesn't look like you sustained any injuries. If you're feeling up to it, you may go on to class." Lezard glanced over to a nearby clock. The gods were on his side: he hadn't missed anything important.

"Yes, I will do that. Thank you." He wasn't going to let anything stop him from going on. He left the infirmary, shaking his head a little trying to rid himself of the noises he could still hear. Demonic voices whispering, crying out as if from a great distance. He rubbed his head, sighing a little.

He felt too tired to go back tonight. Tomorrow, he promised, he would finish what he started.


	7. Illusions

_Chapter Six: Illusions_

The first order of business once released from the infirmary was to check out the courtyard. It was out of his way but he had to check it out. He stopped at the entrance; the entire area was roped off and the circle he drew last night was still there. The whispers in his ears had been growing the closer he came to the courtyard and now they were clear enough to distinguish words, though the language was foreign to him. He ignored the voices and focused on the area outside the circle. Long, narrow marks were gouged into the marble floor… almost like claw marks.

"I don't hear anything," he stated loudly, turning his back on the sight and walking away. He couldn't ignore what he had seen, and knew his failed attempt at calling forth a demon was the cause. For now he had to push that out of his mind and focused on his schoolwork. He did not, however, make a detour to visit the Necromantic Theory class.

The day wore on slowly. He gained his strength back a little at a time but he still seemed to look unwell, because all of his teachers asked if he was feeling all right. The demonic voices persisted in whispering to him however hard he tried silencing them with study. He had no doubt that these voices came from his failed gate; most likely they were trapped between worlds and were calling him to fix the problem. The voices made it difficult for him to take notes, overriding his teacher's words so everything was scrambled.

He felt relieved when the lunch break arrived, if only to drown the demon voices out with human voices. He sat alone this time and poked his food listlessly. As if all the other distressing events of the day weren't enough, his magical powers were also suffering. The demon summoning had drained him much more than he thought. He would have to double his study efforts to gain more power.

"Hey there, bookworm," Mystina greeted him, choosing a seat across the table. "Goodness, you look awful! I heard you were in the infirmary but I didn't think it was anything serious!"

"Mystina, if you sat here to tell me how awful I look, please spare me," Lezard said dully. "All of my teachers have told me as much and I'm getting tired of hearing it." He gave another listless poke to his meal but didn't eat any of it. His friend watched him thoughtfully for a moment before reaching over and touching his forehead.

"You feel like a block of ice!" she cried. "Lezard, honestly! If you're sick you should be in bed! Don't waste an illness by going to class!"

"I'm not sick," he snapped, batting her hand away impatiently. "I had a long night, that's all. If you would all just leave me alone I would be fine!" He spoke this last part a bit loudly but the demons either didn't understand or didn't care. He sighed, rubbing his temple wearily and rising to his feet. "I'm going to the library."

"Lezard!" Mystina tried calling after him but he was already gone. She snorted and tossed her hair. "Didn't even eat his lunch. That little bookworm is going to kill himself one of these days."

Lezard spent the rest of his lunch break in the library figuring out what had gone wrong last night. He did all of the appropriate steps and yet somehow he failed. He refused to admit that he was too young to master such spells. Even achieving a failed summoning had to be better than anything his fellow classmates could do. He would simply continue working until he mastered it.

Aside from the continual whispers in his ears, the day turned out like any other. He gained enough strength to call his familiar back to him but still felt he needed more recovery before attempting the summoning again. For once in his academic career he made little progress in his assignments and personal projects. The demons were not leaving him alone and now that it was drawing closer to evening, they were becoming more insistent. He fell into bed hoping tomorrow would be better.

The morning arrived, and he climbed out of bed only to see writing on the wall over his headboard. It was his writing but it was unlike the usual precise scrawl; instead it looked like a different language though he still knew what it meant. "Blood sacrifice to appease the angered demons" one section read, and the rest looked like calculations. Lezard hurried to wash the writing off before his roommate saw.

"You will not frighten me away, demons," he muttered. "I will conquer this and every other spell. In fact, my chief study from now on shall be the art of necromancy."

------

With the use of rabbit's blood, Lezard was able to close the gate and avoid retribution from the trapped demons. It drained most of his strength to perform the magic but he was not discouraged. However small, it was at least a step in the right direction. He set about learning difficult magic spells outside of necromancy while also managing to finish every school assignment. The calculations he wrote on the wall helped in mastering the more difficult spells.

He visited the infirmary twice more attempting to open the gate. He had the foresight to call of his familiar before focusing his magical energy into the circle and yet still expelled too much energy on his second attempt. Much more study brought him back for a third attempt. This time he actually witnessed a demon clawing its way out of the gate as it began to open. The clawed hand groped forward and grabbed Lezard's leg. In the moment of panic Lezard accidentally closed the gate again and sustained a serious injury for it.

While all of this was going on he attended his usual classes and returned to Necromantic Theory. He still endured worried comments from his teachers that he looked tired all the time, and his roommate grew increasingly cautious as he noticed Lezard talking to himself. As for Mystina, she saw Lezard as being more distracted than usual and his eating habits had changed. Before he was a very picky eater but now it seemed he barely noticed what he put in his mouth.

"Lezard, would you be a dear and share your notes on the elves?" Mystina requested during one evening meal. "I know you've been studying it in class recently." Lezard slid the corresponding notebook over without a word and returned to his food. He was roused by a cry of dismay from his friend. "What on earth _is_ all of this? Is this some kind of joke? These look like chicken scratches!!"

"Let me see." Lezard took his notes back, glancing over them thoughtfully. He understood what was written perfectly, though in truth the writing looked like some unknown language. "I apologize, Mystina," he said with a shrug. "You shall have to get your information some other way."

"What's with you lately?" his friend demanded. "Ever since that day you were in the infirmary you've been acting different, and now your handwriting is suffering! What are you up to, bookworm?" He sighed heavily and decided to be honest with his friend.

"I am studying necromancy." She gave a gasp of shock but he talked over it. "I have been doing so for several weeks now along with my normal studies. I have so far attempted to summon a demon three times, and would have been successful the last time if not for an unforeseen accident. I trust you will tell no one about this."

"Of course not," she assured him, "but why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've helped you!"

"No!" he snapped, anger suddenly sparking in his features. "I must do this alone! I will not allow even you to get in my way!" The anger passed and he rubbed his aching head. "What I mean to say is that you shouldn't get involved in this. In fact, I must implore you not to dabble in necromancy. Please trust me when I say it is a dangerous art."

Mystina had nothing to say. Lezard's anger had frightened her slightly and she couldn't help but wonder what else he was hiding from her. She sighed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I won't if it bothers you that much, but Lezard… I hope you know what you're doing." He gave her a bland smile for assurance and the two friends ate their meal in uneasy silence.

Lezard momentarily forgot why it was important to speak with the demon once it was summoned and focused wholly on the summoning itself. He read every book he could find on the subject, and spent all of his free evening hours to figuring out what had gone wrong the previous three times. The notes he wrote unconsciously on the wall turned out most helpful in his quest, though the writing only appeared when the gate was left partially open.

It was drawing much too close to Winternights to attempt another summoning. The spirit world would be at its strongest and he wouldn't be able to control the creature once it passed through the gate. He delved deeper into the study of it so that when Winternights was over, he would at last have success. One last time he went to the courtyard to purposefully do an incomplete summoning so the demonic voices would guide him. They were helping him so much already; he was eager to see how much more helpful they became once he faced them.

It became an obsession of his to master this art, and all other things were pushed aside.


	8. Freak

_Chapter Seven: Freak_

At the age of sixteen, Lezard Valeth became the youngest person to ever successfully summon a demon. The encounter did not go as he would have hoped. The demon he summoned looked like a deformed dwarf with over-long arms and claws that scraped the courtyard's stone floor. He could understand it but the demon apparently didn't understand him, and so the interview was a failure. Even so, he took pride in accomplishing the feat at all.

School was becoming increasingly dull for him. Already he was setting to master spells students two years older than he were learning, and it took little effort for him to keep his position as head of the class. When he lost sleep he didn't show signs of it. The writing over his bed appeared infrequently but it always proved useful and so he often performed partial summonings.

Lezard's roommate had a captive audience every morning as he relayed what the strange boy was up to. "He talks to himself all the time," he would report. "But it's like there are voices in his head. Oh, and he wrote weird stuff on the wall again. I don't know what it means but it gives me an uneasy feeling when I look at it."

"He's finally losing his mind," observed an older student, though none looked pleased at the idea. "Maybe he'll be kicked out." This suggestion settled much better with the gathered students enough for them to confidently go their separate ways.

One particular day, about midway through the winter term, Lezard did not show up for his morning class. This caused a stir in his fellow classmates. Even when he was ill he had never missed a class. His roommate swore Lezard left at the usual time, but after that he seemed to have left the school's property.

Mystina was aware of all the whispers circulating about her friend but she paid no attention to them. The little bookworm helped her out a great deal and as long as he continued doing so, everything else was his own business. However when she heard he skipped class she grew concerned. That was not like the boy she knew. Others were content to forget him but she went out looking. He wasn't in any of his usual spots and that only troubled her more.

The afternoon meal break rolled around with no sign of her friend. Mystina wondered where he could've run off to and why he hadn't bothered to at least tell her before he left. She jabbed at her food angrily. When she glanced up she emitted a gasp of surprise. There was Lezard headed her way. Other than disheveled hair nothing in his appearance gave away where he'd been.

"Lezard, you little louse! The school's in an uproar because you've skipped class all day!" What have you been up to?" He ignored her, taking a seat beside her and staring forward. She waited but he didn't even turn to greet her. "Don't ignore me!" she snapped. He made no indication he heard her. Certainly he could be a prick but he hadn't been this rude to her since they met. "LEZARD!" she practically screamed in his ear.

"Hmm? Ahh, Mystina," he drolled, finally turning to face his friend. "Do forgive me. I was deep in thought." His lips curled into a smile. His eyes locked onto hers and she instinctively recoiled. There was something wrong about those eyes… something sinister and threatening.

"Are you all right, Lezard?" she wondered.

"Why, of course, Mysty! I'm perfectly fine!" He laughed, turning his attention to his food. The girl at his side stared at him dumbly. In all their time as friends he had never once called her "Mysty".

"Lezard…" She tried again, treading carefully this time. "What did you do?"

"I had a pleasant visit with the dead," he answered. "It is much easier to call upon demons when one is surrounded by departed souls. I cannot tell you all that I learned, but it was an educational experience much more useful than anything this school could teach me."

Lezard got up without ever touching his food and left the eating area. After that day he spent much more time in the library and much less in the classrooms. The teachers were displeased but they couldn't complain: he finished any work given to him with excellence. Whatever it was he was doing all those hours in the library was something private. Even if he would tell Mystina his plans she wouldn't have understood any of his notes. She was a little glad she didn't know what was going on; he had grown increasingly strange, enough for her to feel uneasy.

The seasons rolled close to spring. These days when Mystina and Lezard met they only talked about Mystina's research. Lezard still assisted her but now it came in lecture form and she sat copying down his words. She had to admit he had good information though she suspected some of it didn't come from library books. Lezard's roommate reported no recent appearances of the wall writing but instead told of the late hours Lezard was spending out of the room.

A spring day arrived where the weather was so nice students were allowed outdoors to study. Mystina was hurrying to the library for a book she needed when she accidentally stumbled on a couple kissing each other fiercely. She rolled her eyes a little and moved to take a different route but a chuckle from the male held her back. There was something very familiar about that laugh…

"Lezard?" The male turned, and sure enough it was her friend. Looking closer Mystina saw he had the girl pinned to the wall and even now she was squirming for escape. "What are you _doing_?"

"If you don't mind, Mysty, I'm rather busy," he snapped. "Go away." The furious look in his eye made it easy not to argue. Once again Mystina was left puzzling what was going on with her friend. As far as she knew she was the only female he would tolerate spending time with. He even admitted to her he didn't think much of women. What could've changed his mind?

"What the hell, Lezard?" she shrieked the moment she had him alone. "What the hell? Since when were you interested in women?"

"My personal life is none of your business," he retorted, glaring her down. "I suggest you butt out. Unless… you're jealous?" He smirked mischievously and reached for her arm. "Are you wanting a little action, Mysty?"

"UGH! You pervet!" She wrenched out of his grasp, seriously unnerved now. "Don't you dare touch me you… you freak!" She ran way, Lezard's laughter following her. No, it wasn't Lezard anymore, at least the way she knew him. Something had changed him horribly.

------

On that morning when Lezard skipped class, he had writing on the wall giving instructions to visit the local burial sights. So far the writing pushed him in the right direction, and he hurried out of the school. Without planning it he summoned a demon, and opened his ears to the voices of the dead. They were all talking over each other along with demonic shrieks.

"Stop, stop! I can't understand." They paid no heed to him and continued the cacophony. "I want to understand!" he shouted over them. "I want all the knowledge you can give me! I want more magical power! Anything!"

"Payment!" the voices cried back in unison. "Payment! Payment!"

"I will pay!" Lezard agreed thoughtlessly. "Name your price and I will pay it! Just give me what I desire!" He felt invisible hands groping him, feeling up his legs and arms. Someone was screaming and then a burst of light knocked him off his feet.

Later he found himself back at the school entrance. How he got there he didn't know. He was aware of a throbbing headache and nothing more.

The girl he cornered was younger than himself but he didn't care. He wanted her, to feel her skin under his hands. It was an impulse that never occurred to him before but he followed it all the same. Once Mystina was gone he returned to his prey. He soon released her but he would keep her in mind, just in case he needed someone like her later.

Mystina had called him a freak. He found the new title extremely amusing. Now even his only friend had cast him out of society. No matter to him. He had always been apart from everyone. Mystina's disgust and fear meant nothing to him. He had his own plans and would carry them out. Nothing else mattered.


	9. Devil's Errand

_Chapter Eight: Devil's Errand_

The time between Midsummer and when the new school year began was always the most tedious for him. Usually he had enough reading material from the traders to satisfy him yet even then the days lingered on at a frustrating slowness. This year was not like all the others before. Something occupied Lezard's attention so he didn't even buy anything during Midsummer, and only left his room to give his faithful cat some exercise.

None of the servants went near his room any longer and by now all in the house were aware of the change in the young man. His father sensed it as well but could never get his son to talk about the matter. The more they tried to reach him the more reclusive he became until they conceded to let it alone. His grades were stellar and he was far ahead of others in his year, so really his father couldn't complain of Lezard's thirst for knowledge.

Lezard always went out on his walks just as the sun was starting to set. His cat Sophos would accompany him, and once he was away from home he would summon his familiar. The cool evening air was a relief to the animals after spending hours in a stuffy room. Lezard's familiar, a pigmy dragon he called Drache, would fly above its master and dive down to attack creatures that came near. Lezard paused if his animal companions strayed too far and allowed them to catch up before moving on.

"I have to get their help again," the boy said aloud. It was difficult to tell whether he was speaking to the two animals, or to himself. "I feel there is still more I can know. There must be some secret in gaining the knowledge I desire. They will know the answer."

He fell into thoughtful silence, his feet slowing their pace as if he were studying the streets for clues. The town was growing darker around him as people prepared for sleep. He passed them by, almost irresistibly drawn to a grave site. Ever since that day, he found himself passing by graves all the time. He felt that if he could only learn the secrets of the dead, he would be closer to his desire.

Drache shot out like an arrow into the bushes. Lezard was snapped out of his thoughts by the sudden movement. "Drache, what have you got there?" he demanded. "Bring it to me at once!" The familiar obediently returned, depositing a trembling rabbit at his master's feet. Lezard knelt down and touched the soft white fur of the creature. "No need to fear, little one. You're safe with me." The rabbit calmed at once and nuzzled a little toward Lezard's hand. Fresh blood stained the boy's fingers.

_Blood…_

"What?" Lezard pulled his hand away from the rabbit. He heard, or thought he heard, a voice whisper the word seductively in his ear. He lifted his hand and saw clearly the rabbit's blood on his fingers. Drache's teeth had ripped some of the animal's skin. Hand trembling, he touched the creature's neck. More hot blood pulsed out onto his fingers.

_Blood…_ He felt warm with pleasure. Carefully he picked up the rabbit, fingers curled close to its throat so he would feel its life ebbing away. He had nothing on his person but Drache provided, fetching a sharp stick. The rabbit remained perfectly docile in his hands up until he stabbed it in the neck. It thrashed but Lezard just dug the stick deeper, twisting and tearing, forcing the animal into eternal silence.

"Forgive me," Lezard murmured, settling the limp body on the ground. "You were dying, and so I eased your suffering. Drache and Sophos?" He turned his attention to his animal companions. "Leave this place quickly." He moved with deliberation, as if he had planned this all along. Holding out his stained palms, he chanted the spell that would summon forth a demon.

"Look! See, I am willing to give blood, if that is what you want! Now give me what I want!" Hands clawed out of the gate, groping blindly toward him. One grabbed the rabbit's body and a howl of triumph rose up in the darkness.

------

Summer slipped away and school was back in session. The familiar form of Lezard Valeth sat behind a stack of books in the library. The library staff had grown used to his presence years ago and by now knew better than to ask why he requested a certain book. He was respectfully left alone to study what he would, however strange the subject matter seemed.

Since coming back to school, Lezard spent all of his free hours in the library. He stopped attending the class on necromancy and hadn't bothered to summon a demon since that night during the summer. A new goal had been presented to him, and he needed his full concentration. His classes were pointless to him and yet he attended them still. His roommate failed to report anything out of the ordinary: there were no wall writings, and Lezard muttering to himself was old news.

"So, little freak, mind telling me what depraved art you're focusing on now?" Mystina asked him. Those were the words she greeted her friend with as he sat down for the afternoon meal. She too had grown more used to his unusual behavior.

"I am still studying necromancy," Lezard responded, "though at the moment I am researching something."

"Researching what?" the girl demanded. Lezard smiled across the table at her in a twisted, mischievous way.

"Have you ever heard of the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Naturally. Who hasn't?" Mystina flipped her hair haughtily. "But honestly, Lezard, I can't believe you're wasting your time with that! People have been trying for ages to find it, and the plain truth is that it doesn't exist!"

"Is that so?" Lezard kept his smile, giving him a superior air of knowing something Mystina did not. The look infuriated his friend. "Come now, Mysty. Just because something is hard to find doesn't mean it is nonexistent. Why, think of the path to Yggdrasil as an example!"

"Yes, I know," Mystina snapped, cutting him off. "Humans can't enter, but the path is there. I see your point, but I still think you're chasing after a fable! If something with that kind of power did in fact exist, I seriously doubt it would be accessible to humans!"

"No? Ah, well. There's no harm in trying." Lezard had a smug, confident look on his face. He obviously couldn't tell Mystina why he was so certain of the Stone's existence, but it was fun to tease her. The girl snorted angrily at him and took a few moments to compose herself.

"Well, Lezard, do tell me when you found it."

"I certainly shall, Mysty," he assured her. "In fact, I promise you will be the very first to know." His smirk remained all throughout the meal and he returned to his books brimming with the confidence that he would soon stumble upon the one leading him to the Stone.

Mystina's skepticism was not without reason. The legends concerning the Stone were varied, and many were unclear on what exactly it was. The most popular claim named it a device in alchemy that could turn base metals into gold. Such ideas held little interest for Lezard; he was drawn to the more obscure claim that the stone was a compression of the world's knowledge. If he could only locate it and hold it in his hands, he would be the possessor of all that knowledge.

Finding the Stone would naturally be the most difficult obstacle to overcome. The books he perused so far gave no hints to its whereabouts or what it would look like. Such a powerful object would probably be protected by barriers and wards if it was somewhere in Midgard. The more logical hiding place would be Asgard or Nifleheim; Lezard could only hope that was not the case or he would never be able to obtain it.

He fruitlessly searched every spare moment for some clue on how to begin searching, but the library failed him. In all the volumes on the subject, not one gave a definite answer. The information was all abstract, theoretical, unhelpful. He had no other choice but to enlist the aid of demons. He had avoided doing so, but they were the ones who started him on this quest, and it seemed only they could push him on the right path.

Lezard's choice to enlist the help of demons could not have come at a worse time. Winternights was quickly approaching and the spirit world was growing in strength. He couldn't control the power he unleashed. All he remembered of the experience was a woman holding onto him to prevent him from falling into the spirit world. His mistake wasn't a total loss, though: the demons still provided him with a lead. He would wait until after Winternights to make his move, though. He needed time to plan all of the details.

------

The teacher's room was neatly kept, a soft patterned rug on the floor and an entire wall devoted to books. Lezard pushed open the door and stepped inside. The teacher rose to his feet and acknowledged the boy's presence with a smile: Lezard was expected. This particular teacher dealt with the "softer" side of magic, such as potions and powders. Lezard shut the door behind him and crossed the room, his familiar perched on his shoulder.

"It's been a while since you've come by, Lezard," the teacher observed pleasantly. "You said you needed a further explanation on Ghoul Powder?"

"No, I believe I understand the basics now," Lezard replied, smiling. "It is a powder than on consumption turns a human's physical state into that of a demon. It is indistinguishable from other types and therefore extremely dangerous if not used properly."

"Sounds like you understand the lesson perfectly, which can only mean you have some other reason for being here." The teacher fixed a thoughtful stare on the young student. Lezard gave a pleasant smile and bowed his head.

"Indeed, I do. I am to understand that you know something about the Philosopher's Stone." The older man's reaction to this was starting. He froze up and his face went pale in fright. Lezard just continued smiling.

"Who told you about that?"

"That is not important," Lezard said, taking another step forward. "What is important is that you have information I want, and you will give it to me."

"Lezard, I don't know what you heard, but the Philosopher's Stone is only a legend… a theory at best!" That would not explain the teacher's frightened eyes, or why he tried distancing himself from Lezard.

"It is very real and you know it," Lezard insisted, his calm voice a striking contrast to the panicking teacher. "Just tell me what you know."

"All you need to know about the Stone can be read in books. I won't tell you any more than that." Lezard's familiar screeched and flapped its wings restlessly; the teacher took another step away from the advancing boy.

"You are determined, then, to stand in my way. I cannot allow that." Lezard's familiar attacked the teacher just as the older man began chanting a spell. "You dare to stand against me? The folly!"

Balls of fire shot out from Lezard's palms, striking the older man's body. The flames engulfed him and he dropped to the ground to try putting it out. Another spell was already being called upon and this time dark shafts pummeled the teacher. To keep the flames from spreading Lezard called on an ice spell. He stood over the body and prodded it with a toe. The burnt and battered body remained motionless.

"Open the gates to Nifleheim," he said. "More souls await."


	10. Expulsion

_Chapter Nine: Expulsion_

The soft morning hours before the school day began were reserved for the teachers. The few precious hours were spent discussing classes, students, and any other topic they wanted to share. The cooking staff was always the first to rise. They, too, found relaxing peace in those hours before the students swarmed in the dining area. The table would be set and little by little the teachers would trickle in.

The headmistress Lorenta smiled at her teachers. They could only manage sleepy nods in return, but the gesture was appreciated. Her eye roamed over the assembled adults and paused. A frown creased her mouth and her eyes swept them a second time. Her familiar, usually as calm as its mistress, flapped its wings in agitation.

"Why, we are missing someone," she said at last. "He is usually so punctual. It is very peculiar."

"Perhaps he's sick," one suggested.

"Yes, that could be," Lorenta agreed. "He must be very sick if he cannot send his familiar. I shall have to check on him." She pushed aside her half-eaten meal and elegantly rose from the table. Some of the other teachers shifted uncertainly in their chairs but she assured them she needed no escort, and went off alone.

Her heels clicked loudly in the otherwise silent hallway. Now that she was away from her staff, Lorenta's calm mask fell away to reveal one stricken with worry and confusion. It was only human for one of her teachers to fall ill, but it was very distressing to think that the illness prevented him from sending his familiar with a message of his sickness. Her mind searched for possible afflictions that could so weaken a sorcerer. When she arrived at the teacher's door, she still came up with no answer to the riddle.

Lorenta knocked politely on the door. She waited, but received no answer. "Hello?" she called out. "This is Headmistress Lorenta. If you can hear me, please make a noise." She allowed a pause but still heard nothing in reply. Her worry grew and she reached forward to try the doorknob. It was unlocked and relented under her hand. She pushed the door open.

Her hands flew to her mouth to stifle the scream about to escape. The teacher's room was in disarray, and there on the ground was the man. His punctured and burned body gave no hope that he could still be alive. Lorenta shut her eyes against the sight and took a few calming breaths before opening them again. The room stank of decay and burnt flesh. The headmistress had to quickly exit the room before she became ill.

It took a great deal of self-control for Lorenta to remain calm and walk back to the dining area. Her familiar wheeled around her head, shrieking the panic Lorenta refused to submit to. On her return, all of the teachers rose to their feet. The distress of her familiar alarmed them but they did not press Lorenta to speak.

"I need all of you to come with me," she said in a steady voice. "Something unthinkable has happened, and we must decide on a course of action." The teachers trusted in their headmistress enough to abstain from questions, and quietly obeyed. Lorenta's steps now were purposeful as she led her teachers back to her office. As she walked she composed in her mind what she wished to say. Not a word was spoken until they were all inside the headmistress's office with the door shut.

"What's happened, headmistress?"

"My friends, one of our colleagues has been murdered," Lorenta stated. Alarm surged up in the aftermath of the statement. Lorenta carefully observed their faces and discerned true shock and horror in them all. She felt a great relief, and a great fear all at once: none of the teachers committed the murder, but that only left students as suspects.

"How can you be sure he was murdered?"

"The puncture wounds on his body came from magic," she replied. "Very powerful magic at that. We will have to make a further investigation to see if the killer left any evidence, but we must all accept the fact that one of our students has committed this atrocious act."

"Headmistress, you can't possibly think a student would do this!"

"As I said, we will investigate further," Lorenta answered calmly. "For the moment, we must discuss a course of action. We need to move the body; that much is certain. But what are we to do about classes? I do not wish to have the students in a panic until we know more about this."

"We will do whatever you think is best, headmistress," said one teacher, and her fellows agreed en mass. She gave them a smile of thanks and considered the matter.

"The only option is to continue on as if nothing was wrong," she concluded. "If we cancel classes the students might be suspicious, and we can also lull the killer into a false sense of security. We will tell the students that all of the classes taught by our departed friend are canceled due to an illness he contracted. All of you must not give the students any indication that something has happened."

"Of course, of course," they assured her. Lorenta glanced to her clock and saw they still had some time before students started waking up.

"Two of you will come with me. We must bury the body before the students awake."

Her teachers praised her for being so collected in such a disastrous time, but really she was only acting as any leader would in a crisis. The burial and final rites went much faster than was traditional, but they couldn't risk performing the full ceremony. While her teachers focused on the day ahead, Lorenta went back to the scene of the crime. A window had been opened to dissolve the smell but the rest was left as it had been when she found the body.

Books were torn off the shelves and flung open on the floor. The desk's drawers were open and empty. A cabinet, where the teacher kept his potions and powders, had its door open and it too was cleaned out. Lorenta searched desperately for a torn piece of cloth, a shoe print in the dried blood, anything to help her discover the killer. Her only helpful clues were marks of magic left behind.

------

Lezard was making his way to class when he noticed a crowd of students huddled around a closed classroom. He spotted Mystina in the crowd and moved to join her. The classroom door had a note posted, stating that all classes were canceled due to the teacher's illness. Some students were drawing closer to be sure the sign was real. Mystina flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to leave.

"Oh, Lezard! Isn't this great?" She nodded to the notice. "One less thing keeping me from my research. You have this teacher too, don't you?"

"Indeed, I do," he responded. "It is such a pity that he had to fall ill. We were discussing Ghoul Powder, and I rather looked forward to the next lesson." Mystina rolled her eyes.

"Why can't you enjoy a break from class like normal people?" He merely smiled in answer. "Say, we both have some free time. Want to do anything?"

"I'm afraid my schedule is full, Mysty," Lezard replied. "Now that I have free hours, I wish to spend it on my own research. You may enjoy your freedom as you wish."

"Freak," the girl muttered. Lezard heard her, and grinned wider. Suddenly the headmistress's familiar came flying down the hallway. All students stopped what they were doing to watch it disappear around the corner. "What was that about?" Mystina wondered.

"I'm sure I have no idea," Lezard shrugged, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I will see you at lunch, Mysty." He waved to her and headed off. Mystina nodded in return before hurrying away as well. The freak did have a point: now was a good time to focus on her research.

---

Lorenta glanced down the list of names she asked her teachers to provide for her. These names were the top ten students in the school and the ones most likely to know the spells that killed the teacher. She did not like to believe that one of her students consciously murdered another human being, but so far the evidence was forcing her to that conclusion. She would have to put her emotions aside and focus on finding the killer.

One at a time, the ten students would be called to her office. Lorenta hated deception, but it was necessary to conduct this business. She made up excuses for their presence in her office and carefully eased into discussing the previous day. She knew all of these students for years know, and her knowledge as a teacher helped her pick up on subtle movements or inflections of voice that suggested guilt.

She crossed off names from the list once assured that they were not the guilty party. Lorenta felt relieved at the dwindling list of suspects. Perhaps she had overreacted in her judgment, and perhaps the true culprit was outside the school walls. Such a possibility was frightening but it certainly seemed a hopeful alternative. She was in high spirits when she asked for the next student.

---

"The headmistress wishes to see me?" He tucked the note into his pocket. "Very well. I shall be there shortly." The bird familiar twittered and soared off to alert its mistress. This wasn't the first time he was summoned to the headmistress, and he felt rather annoyed that she would interrupt his studies. He sighed and headed down the familiar path to her office. He knocked, and stepped inside when asked.

"Thank you for coming, Lezard. This won't take very long."

"I hope this isn't another reprimand for skipping classes," he said in a bored voice. "I believe we have had that discussion before."

"No, it's nothing like that," the headmistress assured him. She gave him a soft, motherly smile that sent his blood boiling in anger. "In fact, I wanted to congratulate you. You're one of the top ten students at the school."

"Thank you, but I do not strive for such a lofty position." Lezard bowed his head humbly. "I merely do the best that I can do."

"Yes, I'm sure that you do, even if you don't always make it to class." Her eyes focused on his and he stared back, unwavering. "You had a canceled class today," Lorenta resumed. "I hope that you're spending your free time wisely."

"You needn't worry about that, headmistress. I always make very good use of my time." His eyes were attempting to read her just as she attempted to read him. He felt he was beginning to understand the true reason for this visit. "It is a pity that the teacher fell ill. I hope it is nothing serious. I am very eager to continue my studies."

"I…" He caught a flash of uncertainty in Lorenta's face before she could hide it. "I don't want you to worry about that. I have things under control."

"I'm sure that you do." His lips curled into a smirk. "We can all rest easier knowing we have such a capable headmistress." He kept his tone light, but underneath was a mocking menace that Lorenta picked up on. Her calm expression failed her.

"Lezard, what were you doing yesterday?" Ah, at last they came to the heart of the matter. He wondered how many students she asked this question before coming to him. He smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Gathering material for research," he responded. The funny part was that this was actually true. "What I am researching is my own business," he went on, before Lorenta could ask more. "I am not a child." The headmistress said nothing, gazing at him with a mixture of apprehension and motherly compassion. His anger rose alarmingly, so much that it summoned his familiar.

"Lezard…" Lorenta struggled for calm, her familiar twittering uncertainly. "I only asked out of curiosity." Something in her tone frustrated Lezard so much he abandoned pretense and spoke his thoughts.

"Deceit does not become you, headmistress. I know very well why you asked me here, and the meaning behind these questions! Shall I save us both a great deal of time and tell you what happened yesterday?" Lorenta was struck dumb, but Lezard continued anyway. He felt a sense of triumph in confessing his deed and shattering the headmistress's notions. "I went to visit a certain teacher yesterday. I wanted something from him that he wasn't willing to give, so I killed him."

"You--!"

"Yes, one of your precious students has taken a human life! What will you do about it, dear headmistress?" Lezard taunted. He smirked watching the older woman squirm under the revelation. His action had been for his own gain but he did enjoy the effect it had on the headmistress.

"It was a gross misuse of your power," Lorenta stated. She was still struggling for composure, but it was a losing battle. "Taking a life for selfish reasons is inexcusable. You will need to leave the school grounds at once and never come back. I think that is the worst punishment I can give to one who treasures knowledge so highly."

Lezard did not make a verbal response. His familiar screeched angrily, knocking books off of the headmistress's shelves. It eventually calmed and perched on its master's shoulder. Lezard smiled at Lorenta for the last time as her student.

"Farewell, then. Perhaps we will meet again." He turned and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him.


	11. Parting

_Chapter Ten: Parting_

No one would guess what had occurred in the headmistress's office by Lezard's face. He looked perfectly calm and poised. His pigmy dragon was perched on his shoulder and it too seemed at ease. Lezard was to report to class shortly, but there was little point in doing so now that he was expelled. Instead he headed back to his room to pack up his things. His calm demeanor was no mere façade: he truly felt no qualms about leaving the school for good.

For him, the classes were becoming increasingly more tedious and pointless. He had advanced far above what he was being taught and loathed the time wasted away from important research. He wasn't especially bothered about being cut off from the school's library, either. Mystina was still in school, and if he needed anything she would provide it for him. He doubted he would have much need for them now that he possessed volumes from his recently deceased teacher.

All in all, he was glad to leave the school behind. Outside of its walls he would be free to do as he wished. His new goal of seeking out the Philosopher's Stone would not be an easy thing to accomplish. He would need more knowledge in arcane magic if he hoped to procure it. The books he now owned would be an excellent start, but already his mind thirsted for more.

Lezard packed away everything he owned and vacated his dorm room. He took a nostalgic stroll through the halls, bidding goodbye to it all. He knew already he could not go home with an expulsion hovering over his head. He would have to find a place to store his belongings. But first, he thought to see Mystina before he left the school. It didn't seem proper for her to hear of his expulsion from outside sources.

He found the girl in the library, of all places, poring over a volume. He smiled a little to himself and tapped her on the shoulder. She smiled and held up the book she was reading. It looked to be a potion book. He nodded, motioning for her to follow him out of the library. Mystina marked her place and followed her friend outside.

"Mystina, I thought you should be the first to know that I have been expelled."

"You WHAT?!" she shrieked. Luckily there weren't many nearby to hear her, though she still looked embarrassed. "Lezard, what are you talking about? You're one of the best students in the school! Why on earth would the headmistress expel you?"

"If you must know, it is because I exhibited a gross misuse of my abilities," he replied. "The school does not tolerate such things." He was skirting away from mentioning exactly how he misused his abilities; for some reason he was reluctant for Mystina to know he was a murderer.

"Misuse… what did you _do_?" she asked him. He sighed heavily and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"That, my dear Mysty, I do not wish to say. I am quite certain our dear headmistress will let it be known in time. For now, be satisfied knowing I felt the action necessary to proceed with my desire for the Philosopher's Stone. I will do whatever I must to get what I want." His familiar gave a soft screech in agreement.

"Hmph, I don't doubt that," Mystina said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Best of luck to you. I still think you chasing after the Stone is foolish, but you're too stubborn to change your mind. I just hope you'll keep in touch!"

"I shall certainly try," he assured her with a bow. The two friends parted with a handshake, and went their separate ways. He was certain this would not be the last time he would speak with Mystina. However, he hoped that when they did meet next, they would be walking two separate roads.

He had no place of his own to seek refuge. For the moment he would have to store his belongings in an abandoned place until he acquired something more appropriate. He would have to get Sophos from home as soon as possible. Sooner or later he would have to face his father as well. Lezard wondered if the headmistress would tell his father exactly why she expelled such a bright student. He doubted he would have to wait very long to find out.

------

Back in the academy, things were going along the same as ever. The first person other than Mystina to even notice Lezard's total absence from the school was his roommate. Once he knew it took very little time for the word to spread around. For Lezard to leave the campus was not unusual, but for him to move out completely was a shock. Everyon knew he was one of the best students in the entire school. What could have possibly prompted him to leave? Speculations flew through the hallways.

Lorenta knew she could not hide the truth from her students for long. She was also reluctant, however, for them to know the exact nature of Lezard's expulsion. She called on her teachers for help in this matter. It was finally agreed that they would call a school assembly where she would acknowledge the expulsion and give part of the reason for it. The issue concerning the dead teacher was harder to solve. They couldn't keep pretending he was ill, and they couldn't admit his death so soon after Lezard's expulsion.

"We will simply have to worry about this at some other time," Lorenta concluded. "What is important now is for me to address the students on Lezard's expulsion." The other teachers agreed to this and made sure to let all of the students know of the assembly.

They chose to have the assembly outdoors, as it provided more room for the students and would allow them to feel more at ease. They gathered at the appointed time and sat expectantly. It was rare for there to be school assemblies, so they all knew that something important was to be announced. Lorenta watched them with her hands folded in her lap, gathering her thoughts as she waited for everyone to arrive. At last the entire school was sitting before her. She rose to her feet, and immediately the students fell into a respectful silence.

"I thank you all for coming to this assembly," she began. "I apologize for taking time out of your school day, but I believe what I have to say is extremely important. Some of you may have already noticed that one of our numbers is missing." Those words drew the attention of nearly every student, and they leaned forward expectantly. "I am sure you may all be wondering why this individual has left the school. This assembly is meant to explain what has happened, and will hopefully act as a discouragement for similar behavior." She paused and allowed the words to sink in before she proceeded.

"As you all know, we at this school have certain rules that we expect every student to follow while within our walls. I regret to say that this individual has chosen to disregard the rules. The skills you are learning here are very powerful and must be used wisely. This individual has used his powers very unwisely, casting spells in anger for selfish reasons. It is because he has chosen this that he will no longer be in the academy. Please take this as a caution to all of you as you continue to grow in your powers." She folded her hands and sat down again.

The student body erupted as one in chatter. Again speculations flew as to how exactly Lezard could have misused his powers. Mystina was uncharacteristically silent. She rested her chin in her hand, her eyes fixed thoughtfully on the headmistress. Something about the way Lorenta explained the situation made it feel unjustified to Mystina. Perhaps she thought so because she was a friend to Lezard, or perhaps because both were so vague in explaining how exactly he misused his powers. Whatever it was, she didn't trust Lorenta and was the only student who left the assembly feeling dissatisfied.

------

Lezard sent his familiar ahead before venturing to approach his house. He was not wishing for a confrontation with his father, though he knew one was inevitable. Drache returned with the report that Lezard's father was indeed at home. The teenager heaved a sigh and proceeded within. He decided it would be easier to deal with his father right away and be done with it.

His father was sitting in the parlor studying some papers. Lezard knocked before approaching. His father glanced up on his approach, and his mild expression drastically changed to one of intense displeasure. Lezard's familiar fluttered its wings in agitation but its master tried remaining poised. He still could not tell how much his father knew, and would not speak until he had more information.

"Lezard… explain yourself," his father began. He angrily shook the papers in his hand. "I received a note earlier telling me you've been expelled from Flenceberg Academy!"

"That is true, sir," the son replied.

"You were an exellent student! How could you have been so foolish! It says here that you exhibited 'a gross misuse of magical abilities' and also 'showed a blatant disrespect for authority'. I didn't raise you that way!" Lezard said nothing, fighting against a smile. That "disrespect for authority" bit was a nice touch. He had to admit that the headmistress had impressive ingenuity. "What are you planning to do with yourself now that you have this stain on you?"

"I have my plans, I assure you," Lezard said. "I merely came back to get Sophos, and then I will be on my way."

"How exactly do you think you're going to support yourself?" his father demanded.

"I will get by. There is no need for you to worry about me any longer. You may denounce me as your son if you wish. It truly makes no difference to me. I shall not be seeing you again." Lezard's voice was cold and harsh, and his father shivered hearing it. He had to take a few moments to compose himself. Lezard did not allow him the last word, exiting the room before his father could say a word.

Lezard did not hate his father. He always held a certain respect for the man but because he spent so much of his life away from his paternal half, Lezard could elicit no affection for his father. As he headed back to his room he passed some of the servants. They were surprised to see the young master home at such an hour but as usual he ignored them. Sophos was waiting for him and greeted him with a happy purr.

"Yes, I missed you too," Lezard said, scooping up his pet tenderly. "You shall no longer have to wait for me to come home." He carried the feline out of the house. His father was standing near the front door waiting for him.

"Lezard…!"

"Goodbye, Father. You would do well to think no more of me after this moment." Lezard gave his father a respectful bow and left him.

There was still one last piece of business that had to be attended before Lezard set out on his journey to find the Philosopher's Stone. He allowed Sophos to walk beside him and Drache hovered on his other side. With their master in the lead the three walked through the town. He did not know where his journey would take him, but he had a feeling he would never come to certain places in Flenceberg ever again. He wanted to take leave of those places before setting out. That is what brought him to this place.

"Well, hello," he stated. "Didn't expect to see me, did you? I hope you do not think I am here out of any respect for you. I only came by to bid you goodbye. You will be out of my thoughts once I leave." The person he addressed was silent as the grave but even thinking of her stirred his anger. "Father says that I am stained… I know that he is right. I am stained with blood, my very first conscious murder." He lifted his hands as if he could almost see the blood.

"I worked very hard to discover if I killed you," he continued. "I could never discover the truth. I hope that I did, though. It would be a sign of my great power. I had power enough at the age of thirteen to snuff out your pathetic life, you miserable woman! I had power enough at the age of sixteen to perform a successful summoning of a demon!" He lifted his hands palms upward, now speaking more to himself. "Now I seek to become so powerful I can obtain the Philosopher's Stone. There will be no limit to what I can do!"

He began to laugh. It started out as a soft chuckle, slowly rising in volume and intensity. It twisted and changed until it was no longer an exclamation of joy. Lezard was no longer laughing. What could be heard now in the air was a maniacal cackle.


	12. Undead

_Chapter Eleven: Undead_

"The substance now commonly referred to as 'Ghoul Powder' first became prevalent many centuries ago as a poison. Many scholars speculate the reason for its creation, but all agree that even in the early stages of its development the powder was known to have devastating effects on the human body. Despite this, the means of creating the powder was passed down through the centuries and the knowledge is easily accessible today.

"As its name suggests, Ghoul Powder usually is in the form of a powder. Some sorcerers have attempted creating a liquid form of the poison, but the potency was not nearly as strong. Ghoul Powder is an extremely dangerous substance due to the fact that it is nearly impossible to tell apart from harmless powders. This could be a reason why the art of making such a substance was able to persist throughout the centuries.

"Because of its effects on a human body, Ghoul Powder has become linked with the magical art of necromancy. It is unknown if other schools of magic use the powder in any way. For necromancers, Ghoul Powder is a popular and powerful tool. The powder is rumored to be made from the dead bodies of demons, though such rumors have not been confirmed. The true way of making Ghoul Powder will not be touched upon here, nor shall there be any hints of where the reader could go to obtain the knowledge.

"On consumption, Ghoul Powder creates a reaction in the human body. It is unknown how exactly the powder accomplishes this change. What is known is that the powder changes a human body into one of the undead. If the powder is strong enough, the human will become a full demon. It is unknown how this transformation affects the former human's soul."

That was all his textbook would say on the subject of Ghoul Powder. Even necromancy books would not give more specific information. Now that he was free from the confines of the academy, he could conduct independent research and find the means for making Ghoul Powder. Such a substance would be very useful in his quest to obtain more knowledge. The more knowledge he had, the closer he would draw to the Philosopher's Stone. He was convinced of that.

The first obstacle was to discover how to make Ghoul Powder, then he could focus on its effects on humans. He was free now to go where he wished, but finding the method for making Ghoul Powder would still not be an easy task. Such a thing would not be out in the open for anyone to discover. The only course of action left for him was to peruse every volume on necromancy he could lay his hands on. One of them would surely guide him to what he sought.

The place where Lezard chose to settle himself as he worked was not very glamorous. Truthfully it could barely be classified as livable. There was no bed, no storage space, or anything that would constitute a house. It was simply an abandoned space with everything inside gutted out long ago. Such things didn't matter much to Lezard, anyway. As long as he had a roof over his head and food in his stomach he had no need for anything else. He was far too focused on his goal to care about such unimportant things as comfort.

His search went on for ours, stretching out into days. He already possessed many books on necromancy, and he made sure to study every word before putting one aside to take up another. So far he only found tantalizing hints to what he desired but still nothing definite. For a moment he thought of seeking help from the demons, but he discarded that notion. He did not want the easy way out this time. Besides, he was learning so much by going through the texts. He didn't want to give that up just to save himself some time.

Lezard only rested when his eyes became so tired the words on the page blurred. Drache and Sophos hunted for his food so he wouldn't have to tear away from his research. Though every book was starting to feed him the same information regarding the powder, his scholarly instinct told him he was getting closer to the truth. He determinedly picked up the next book and pressed onward.

"Ghoul Powder, as it is commonly known, does not contain any remnants of demons. Such assumptions were concluded by the fact that any human who consumes Ghoul Powder undergoes a physical change into the demonic. The true power of Ghoul Powder lies not in its ingredients, but in the sorcerer who makes the powder." Lezard grew excited on reading this particular passage. He eagerly continued reading. The book would not give explicit instructions on making Ghoul Powder, but its clues were much clearer than in any other text.

Lezard would need mixing bowls and other tools in order to make the powder. He had many of those items, taken from his deceased teacher. He had to venture out for the ingredients. Sophos went along with him while Drache stayed behind to guard his master's precious books. Lezard was wise enough to search for the ingredients at night. It wouldn't do for anyone to catch him in daylight and start asking questions.

It took him a few hours to gather everything together and head back. By then the evening progressed to the darkest part of night. Very little moonlight streamed in, so Lezard created a small fire. His cat and familiar sat outside watching for any unwanted visitors as he worked. He knew there was little chance for anyone to be awake at this hour, but he didn't want to take any chances. He worked quietly with only the sound of grinding material into his bowl breaking the silence.

"There, that looks to be right," he said at last. He carefully poured the powder into a glass phial. "I did the best I could with the instructions I was given. The only question now is if I have made the powder correctly." He held the phial up to his eye thoughtfully. As the books warned him, it was difficult to tell this powder from any other. "I shall have to test it," he decided. "But how?"

The following morning he ventured out into the city for the first time in days. He knew that the best way to test the Ghoul Powder would be to force it into a human; the problem rested in taking someone and then making sure their disappearance went unnoticed. If he truly wanted to go through with this he would have to find someone that lived relatively alone, someone that could be absent for days without anyone noticing. He walked down the streets passing his eyes thoughtfully over those passing by.

He paused in his step and focused on a woman hanging up wet laundry. She looked worn out and her eyes darted restlessly back to her house. A wailing child could be heard from within. So, this woman was a mother, was she? Her child was crying but she continued working as if she didn't even hear. Lezard boiled in rage. Without a moment of rational thought, he stepped forward and chanted a sleep spell. He caught the woman as she fell and hoisted her into his arms. She would be perfect for his experiment.

------

When the woman opened her eyes she saw that she was in an abandoned house with nothing but books and blankets inside. She tried to move but her hands and feet were bound tightly with rope. A shadow moved close to her. She strained her body trying to see who it was. A young man revealed himself, smiling down on her. He couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen years old.

"Where am I?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Nowhere special," the young man replied, moving out of her sight again. The woman managed to push herself into a sitting position but she still couldn't tell what he was doing. "Just an old abandoned building."

"Have you been kidnapped too?" she wondered.

"Kidnapped?" he echoed with a laugh. "Don't be absurd! You are here for purely scientific reasons. You are to be a tool for an experiment."

"An experiment?" She shivered in horror. "No! Please, you have to untie me!"

"Why would I want to do a thing like that?" He turned, holding a glass phial in his hand. There was a dangerous glow in his eyes. "You are tied up for a very good reason, my dear. If I was successful in what I tried to accomplish, I really have no idea what will happen to you. If I failed… well, then you have nothing to worry about."

"Please let me go!" she insisted, tugging vainly at her bonds. "I have a son--" The rest of her words were cut off as the teenage boy slapped her hard across the face.

"Shut up, woman!" He grabbed her by the hair, tilting her head back roughly. "Now be a good girl and take your medicine, or I'll have to get nasty." She whimpered but that only earned her a sharp tug on her hair. He pressed the phial to her mouth and forced the contents inside, and then forced her mouth closed so she couldn't spit any of it out.

Lezard stepped back to observe what would happen next. The woman's body convulsed on the floor as if she was having a seizure. She thrashed and screamed, struggling against the ropes binding her limbs together. Lezard was now very glad he thought of tying her up first. He didn't want to think of the damage she would cause if her limbs were free. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and continued watching. The woman flipped over onto her stomach and fell silent.

_Finally_, he thought with relief. If he had known the powder would produce such a loud reaction, he would have conducted this experiment in a more secluded area. Hopefully no one heard the screams. She was quiet now at least and seemed to have stopped writhing. Lezard approached her slowly just in case she started moving again. She laid still, her trembling body the only indication that she was even still alive. He crouched down close to her to observe any changes.

Her skin had shifted into a dull gray color, her eyes now a haunting yellow. He inwardly celebrated in this visual confirmation that he made the Ghoul Powder correctly. He had to quickly back away, though, as the undead woman lunged toward him. She struggled with the ropes again and it was obvious that with her undead status she was much stronger than as a human. He couldn't have her getting loose and wrecking his books.

The only spell that came to mind was an ice spell. He quickly encased the creature in a block of ice. He longed to study it closely but he doubted any of his spells would subdue it for very long. He got rid of the frozen undead as soon as he was able. Certainly it was bound to thaw out eventually, but that was not his problem. His problem was to go back to studying, now focusing on methods to subdue the undead.

His original plan had been a complete success. He made Ghoul Powder, and had observed its effects on a human body. He had no need to try the experiment again but he thought to study more on the subject anyway… just in case.


	13. Tools

_Chapter Twelve: Tools_

Once completed with his experiments on Ghoul Powder, he made a mental list of all that he learned thus far in his quest. His most important research to date still rested in his studies on necromancy during school. That was the catalyst that brought him to this point, and his research thus far depended very much on what he already knew of necromancy. Though he felt his school learning was severely lacking, the offering of necromancy acted as the single bright light.

He hadn't thought much of his school days since his expulsion from the academy. He had more pressing issues that demanded his immediate attention once he left, the most important of these obviously being finding a place to continue his work. Once that was accomplished he focused on pursuing leads found in his former teachers' books. With the Ghoul Powder successfully made and his research at a temporary standstill, he had for the first time in months the luxury of becoming lost in memories.

His first thought led him to Mystina, wondering what she was doing. With him out of school she was undoubtedly now the best student of the academy. He would've loved to see the faces of his former schoolmates as once again they were bested by one younger than them. He couldn't feel bitter remembering his school days; what people thought of him made no difference to him. Indeed now that he thought back on it he took some pleasure in the memories of his roommate becoming increasingly frightened of him. _Hm… roommate._ That was a complication he had neglected to clear up on leaving school.

Luckily he realized his error before it was too late. How he could've possibly forgotten this loose end was purely due to his devotion to learning. It was now clear that he could not go any farther until he dealt with this matter. The trouble in executing this plan was finding a means to re-enter the school. The headmistress made it quite clear that he was unwelcome on the premises, and he had little doubt that there would be disastrous consequences if she happened to catch him. The solution he rested on was simple: he would merely avoid detection and stay in the school's boundaries for as brief a period as possible.

In preparation he sent Sophos out to check out the school for him. He couldn't risk sending Drache; dragons were very rare familiars and the presence of one was bound to raise suspicion. As a cat Sophos could easily pass through the school without notice. The feline was efficient and returned within hours. With the information Sophos provided, Lezard was able to plan his next move.

Lezard's former roommate now lived in a different dorm room with another. Lezard timed his plan so he could confront his roommate without any interference. He waited with Sophos and Drache by his side. The door opened and the teenager once known as Lezard's roommate stepped inside. He yelped in surprise on seeing his unexpected visitor and held on instinctively to the door.

"Well, hello," Lezard greeted him calmly. "It's been a while."

"I…" The shock was still there as the poor boy fought for composure. "I thought that you were expelled from school."

"Indeed I was." Lezard smiled, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He sat perfectly calm and watched as the other slowly entered the room and closed the door behind him.

"What are you doing here, then?"

"I did not have an opportunity to speak with you when I left," Lezard replied. "You and I were roommates for some time. There were things left unresolved between us." He could tell the other was nervous and he didn't seem willing to leave the safety of an exit.

"Lezard, you and I barely talked to each other."

"Yes, but we did share a living space for a long time… too long, in fact." He rose to his feet, still portraying an image of serenity. The other must have sensed danger anyway for he pressed his back tightly to the closed door. "I assure you I bear you no ill will. However, I cannot leave this matter unattended. I am certain you can understand why."

"I'm sorry I talked about you behind your back!" the young man squeaked. "You were a hot topic in school and I wanted to be popular! I'm really, really sorry!"

"Do you honestly believe this is about gossiping?" Lezard laughed tauntingly. "I do not care about such things. This is about how you and I lived together, and you saw certain things that were meant only for my eyes. I do not blame you!" He raised his hand to stop a protest from the other male. "I admit it is in large part my fault; I was careless and had no idea of what would happen. It is truly unfortunate that I did not have a room by myself. We cannot help that, though, can we?" He smiled, allowing a pause as if he expected the other to agree with him.

"Look, I…"

"I know what you might say," Lezard interrupted. "You would promise to never tell, to make nothing of those years as my roommate. It would be in vain. You have seen too much, whether you realize what you saw or not." He stepped up very close, and before the other could respond, stabbed the young man in the stomach.

Lezard clamped his hand over the victim's mouth just in time to stifle a scream. He dug the knife in as far as it would go as the other squirmed and struggled. Lezard pulled the knife out slowly and stabbed again in the space just below the young man's ribs. He grabbed one hand and closed it around the weapon's hilt, calmly stepping away. The body slid down and fell on the ground. Lezard knelt down to wipe his hands on the dying youth's clothes.

He was about to make his exit when his eyes lit on his former roommate's textbooks. It would be such a waste if those volumes were circulated back to the school. Lezard took them with him, knowing he could put them to much better use. He left the school grounds. The only one who knew he had been there was now bleeding to death.

Upon returning to his place of residence, Lezard set to work shifting through the new books he acquired in hopes one of them would provide him with useful information. Their former owner was very helpful in marking certain portions which he deemed important. Very little so far added anything of value to his knowledge, though one book did mention a spell he had not yet mastered. Naturally it did not go into detail of how he could learn the spell.

Once again he found himself deep in study, so much so that he required Drache and Sophos to provide him with food and water. He had at last found something of great value: a book that discussed the elves. The creatures were very secretive in nature and rarely left the shelter of their forest, so any information on them was of great importance. What the book provided him was mere theory but it was helpful in providing him the next step in his quest for knowledge and power.

And if this find wasn't wonderful enough, Lezard stumbled on something that made the theoretical discussion of elves seem totally irrelevant. Of course he very much doubted his former roommate would understand the true value of the information, but that was no matter since Lezard now possessed it.

"'Homunculus is a term used in referring to a human body created through artificial means'," he read aloud, the words filling him with excitement. "'In other words, homunculi are man-made life forms. Though homunculi have the appearance of humans, they are in truth nothing more than bodies without souls'." He paused there to digest these words. He searched for more but found nothing, not even a hint of how one could be constructed.

If he could learn the means of constructing a homunculus, his power would be very close to that of a god's. For such a thing to even be possible for a human proved to him that the gods could not be as the stories claimed. Why, after all, would gods allow such power to exist? This find also made it clear that the Philosopher's Stone did indeed exist somewhere in the world. If such a thing as creating homunculi remained unchecked by the gods then there could very well be an item like the Stone.

The path to take was very clear: he would search the world for instruction until he knew how to craft the being. Once he could successfully make a homunculus, his path to the Philosopher's Stone would at last be open.


	14. Anatomy

_Chapter Thirteen: Anatomy_

Creating a homunculus came surprisingly easy for him. It was all a matter of trial and error until he stumbled upon the correct solution. The more difficult task was making any sort of use out of them. So far they were nothing more than dolls, lifeless forms that couldn't move without assistance. Somehow he would need to find a way of giving the doll motor functions while still keeping it in his control. There was always the option of taking the easy route and seeking demonic guidance, but Lezard would not resort to that unless he had no other choice.

It was obvious that he was missing something in the process. He at first experimented by giving it an electric charge but it only left the body charred and useless. If religion was to be believed, every human existed with a soul. A body was temporal and a soul immortal, passing on after the body gave out to be judged by the Valkyrie and reap the rewards or punishments for the person's life. A soul seemed a logical missing piece in his homunculus puzzle but it also raised an interesting question: What about the elves?

Though he scoured every book he could find, Lezard could not find any definite information on the creatures. They were not humans but neither were they gods. It was well understood that elves were the guardians of Yggdrasil, the World Tree. Without living elves to guard it the World Tree could wither, and thus the world would perish. Did they exist without souls? If so, what about them made it possible to function without one? If they did in fact have a soul, how was it different from a human soul?

Such were the questions that grew in his mind. It would be impossible to answer them with the information available to him. Therefore if he wished to find any answers he would have to journey out on his own. He would need an elf, but they never left the Forest of Spirits. Coming to them was the only option but how to do so was the problem. Obviously it would be protected from unwanted intrusion and when he did manage to break through the defenses, he doubted the elves would be compliant to his wishes. He would have to plan for multiple contingencies.

Lezard spent many days in preparation for what he thought as his most important research yet. One day he devoted completely to learning new spells that could be of some use once he managed to enter the Forest of Spirits, as well as practicing some older ones to be sure his skills remained sharp. As he was doing so he sent Drache ahead to observe the area and come back with a detailed report. As a manifestation of magical power, Drache would be able to sense if not pass through whatever barriers the elves had in place. With the information Drache provided, Lezard was able to plan his route once entering the forest. It was crucial that he not be spotted by any elves but the one he would question.

Once he had a plan for infiltrating the forest, the next step would be in getting there. He went to the port searching for ships that traveled anywhere close to the forest's location. Naturally the ship captains were wise enough to chart their course a safe distance from the forest, even if it caused their travel time to lengthen unnecessarily. Naturally he would prefer going by his own power but didn't have time to learn the mechanics of piloting a boat. He heard rumors of a spell that could take a person from one location to another. Unfortunately all he heard suggested it was a very powerful spell and difficult to master. He would leave that option as a back-up plan.

Having lost his patience with sailors, Lezard decided he would rely on his own powers to travel. He acquired a boat and used magic to steer the vessel in the proper direction. With the strength of his magically-created wind he would be able to reach the forest in no less than a day. The true owners of the boat would hardly notice its absence in that time. Lezard had little time for reflection as he traveled but at this point he had planned so thoroughly that there was nothing left for him but action. Exerting his magical energy in this manner would leave him drained when he arrived at the forest, but he saved enough to create an entrance for himself if necessary.

The trip was largely uneventful. Drache had to be called away so Lezard could conserve energy, and other than a passing flock of birds, nothing interesting happened. He climbed out of the boat when he struck land and took a moment to just admire the scenery. He could feel the energy radiating from the forest. Somehow being close to it restored his strength. Lezard pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and moved closer to the forest. He felt no resistance, no force pushing him back. Spiritual energy surrounded him in a fog the further he proceeded inside, thickening and enclosing around him.

All seemed quiet except for the sound of his boots crushing the earth. It was as if the forest was asleep. Perhaps the elves had lived for so long without any visitors that they lowered their guard. A mistake on their part, but very fortuitous for him. Now and then the forest would stir and send out a creature to investigate this invader but he managed to take care of such interruptions fairly easily. He still saw no sign of any elves but he did notice that the forest seemed to grow more hostile the deeper he penetrated. The dense spiritual energy was almost suffocating.

Lezard came upon a lake where at last his eyes beheld one of the elves. He stood quietly staring at the creature for some time. If not for the slightly elongated ears that were pointed rather than curved, this creature could easily pass off as human. The facial features were perhaps sharper than on a human face, and the creature held an aura of grace and elegance that a human could never pull off. Was it simply their connection with the World Tree that separated elves from humans? Lezard stepped forward to have a closer look.

The elf quickly turned and the two regarded one another. It was difficult for Lezard to discern if this elf were male or female. His presence seemed to catch the elf off-guard but when it recovered it rose to its feet and whipped out a bow and arrow. Lezard gave an impatient sigh. He had hoped he could do this without violence. He held up his hands as a sign of peace but the elf didn't seem to understand the gesture. It released an arrow; Lezard stepped aside so the weapon only grazed his cloak.

"There is no need for such brutality," he told the elf patiently. "I am not here to harm you. I only wish to ask you a few questions, if I may." The elf shouted something back to him in an unfamiliar language. He thought he could still catch the gist of it from the elf's expression: _Leave or I'll kill you._ "Please listen to me. I am no danger to you." The elf apparently disagreed, as it was notching another arrow to its bowstring. Clearly he wasn't going to get any answers like this. Sighing, Lezard chanted a sleeping spell to fall over the elf. He still wanted the creature alive, after all.

If he thought the forest was growing hostile toward him before, once he captured the elf he discovered that it had exploded in rage. He could barely take a few steps before he was attacked by a monster seeking to stop him from taking the elf. Feeling concerned that the forest would rip more than his clothes in its effort to stop him, Lezard once again found he had no other choice but to retaliate. It was purely for defensive reasons; he certainly didn't wish to actually harm the forest's inhabitants in any way, in case he ever needed to return here.

Finally he escaped from the forest, with his unconscious prize lying in the boat beside him. Sailing away from the forest proved to be a much rougher journey as even the sea rose up against him. The waves rolled underneath his boat in angry ripples, pounding its watery fists against the wood. Lezard pressed on regardless. He decided that he would have to learn that teleportation spell if ever he wished to return to this forest. He seriously doubted he would survive another trip of this nature. It was a battle of wills all the way back to Flenceberg.

Lezard was drenched in cold seawater, his body shaking with fatigue when he reached his homeland. He longed for rest but could not seek it until he and his captive were safely away from the public eye. He pulled the body into the nearest closed area he could find before collapsing in weariness.

_Initial contact with the subject resulted in brutality. Attempts of peaceful persuasion failed, resulting in capture of the subject. Escape after subject's capture proved to be nearly impossible. If a return trip is imminent, more careful planning will be necessary. On waking the subject again refused any contact. Subject uses an unfamiliar language but it is believed that the subject is praying to the gods. The subject continues refusing to share secrets. It is impossible to return the subject._

Lezard paused in his writing and thoughtfully glanced over at the captured elf. He had tied its hands and its feet together. It was quiet now, resolved in its capture but stubborn to share anything useful. Lezard was feeling very frustrated with his stubborn captive. He didn't wish to kill the creature, but he couldn't keep it in Flenceberg alive without raising suspicion. Truly, there was no other choice in the matter. Reluctantly he ended the elf's life. One less to guard the World Tree. He wondered if the Tree felt the loss.

Humans and elves were very alike, and very different at the same time. As Lezard studied the elf's body the whisper of an idea formed in his mind. It grew until it filled him like all of his ideas tended to do. A human and an elf combined… surely something no one would dare explore because of the sacrilegious connotations. But he had forsaken those worries of the gods long ago. Another path was opening for him, another step that would surely bring him closer to the Philosopher's Stone.

Once again he would stretch the boundaries of the possible and impossible, and triumph.


	15. Tower

_Chapter Fourteen: Tower_

Days all held the same meaning for him and for his own purposes he felt no need to gauge the weeks and months he spent alone in his work. However he didn't completely isolate himself from the outside world. He still had some awareness of the changing seasons, and he knew when the merchants would come with new merchandise. Drache brought him scraps of news to keep him aware of events. The scraps of news were the most important. It was Lezard's way of being sure that his activities remained unnoticed by everyone else.

It was through these scraps of news that Lezard learned what was happening to his father. No one knew he took residence here so he could receive no letters. He didn't visit the old house any longer and had even advised his father not to make any contact with him. But just as it was with the world as a whole, Lezard couldn't fully separate himself from his family. Drache arrived as usual with scraps of news clutched in his small claws. He deposited them in his master's waiting hands, who then scrutinized each one for hints of notice from the villagers.

"_Valeth Residence Closed_. Social occasions that many have grown used to being hosted in the Valeth residence have now been moved due to Lord Valeth's inability to host. Visitors are welcome but are discouraged from visiting in large numbers." Lezard stopped there, turning the scrap thoughtfully in his hands. It had been about two or so years now since he last saw his father, but he still knew the man very well. The wording of the article suggested that his father insisted on secrecy concerning… whatever was wrong with him.

Lezard had separated himself from his father and had promised he wouldn't go back, but… he couldn't help being curious. He couldn't imagine what would cause his father to close himself off. After considering it for some time Lezard decided he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his work until he knew what was happening. He hated leaving work unfinished but this took priority. Lezard left everything as it was and returned home, trusting Drache to guard things until he returned.

It was odd, but he thought when he was expelled from school he thought he had passed the threshold of the mansion for the last time. Yet here he was walking inside again after so long. His absence hadn't changed it very much. Everything looked to be just as he left it those years ago. The only distinct difference he noticed was the presence of servants near the front door, most likely placed there by his father to ward off unwanted guests. They gaped on his entrance and as usual he ignored their presence. He moved right past them without so much as a greeting and proceeded on to his father's bedroom.

Lezard came to the mansion with no expectations. So finding his father comfortably reading in bed did not shock him. There were no nurses hovering by his father's bedside, no clues to what was wrong. The older Valeth sensed his son's presence and closed the book he'd been reading. Apart from a few more grays in his hair and a thinner face, the father looked just as he did two years before. For a long time the two stood in silence. Really, what was there to say?

"I didn't expect you to come back," the father said at last.

"Nor did I," Lezard replied, "but I noticed you had closed the mansion and I couldn't help wondering why."

"I haven't been well," was the reply. "I get a pain in my chest if I exert myself too much. The doctors told me to take it easy, but I can't help but feel restless. There isn't much for me to do around here."

"You are strong," Lezard told him. "Whatever this affliction is, it will surely pass in time." It couldn't have been serious if his father could still move on his own. He watched quietly as the older man rose from his bed to stretch his legs.

"I'm going to die sooner or later. It may not be today, it may not be for weeks, months… maybe even years. But some day I will die. All mortal life ends eventually. Is that really why you came by, Lezard? So you could see me before I died?"

"Perhaps," he responded. He hadn't actually thought of it that way when he decided to come. But it didn't look to him that his father was dying, so he thought nothing of it. True his father had to stop pacing and steady himself, taking deep breaths, but Lezard thought of it as a sign of age.

"I know I haven't been the best father to you," the older man went on. "I didn't exactly do much to raise you. You always had a nurse or a tutor to look after you, and then you were in school. Nothing I can say now will change the past." He paused, turning to face his son. "Do I assume correctly in thinking we truly won't speak again after this?"

"I believe so, yes," Lezard nodded. "There isn't much we can say to one another, and I am over eighteen so I am no longer legally bound to you. I didn't actually intend to see you again after our last parting, but I read about you closing the mansion, and I was driven to find out what was happening."

"You always did have to know everything," his father said with a fond smile. "I am glad you came, though. There were a few things I wanted to say to you, and last time you left without giving me a chance. Now, I don't know what you've been doing with yourself and honestly I'd rather not know. But I hope that you stick to whatever it is you want in life. This is the most I'll do in fatherly advice: don't give up on what you want. Go for it, no matter what."

Very good advice, in Lezard's opinion. Advice he was planning on taking to heart. Not that he would ever consider giving up in the first place, but he respected his father and was grateful for the encouragement.

"I'm not going to say any of the usual foolishness, like saying how proud I am or how you'll always be my son. These are just words people say. All I really want is to know what you honestly think of me. I'll feel more at peace if I know the truth." Lezard couldn't help smiling a little at this. His respect for his father grew just a little in that moment.

"When I was younger I resented you for being neglectful, and I found your gatherings to be boring and tiresome. However, my time spent with books allowed for me to go to the academy, and I learned a great deal. I can say now that though I may not have affection for you, I certainly respect you." That was the truth, and the words seemed to satisfy his father.

The two parted with a shaking of hands. This time when Lezard left the mansion, he felt that this truly was the last time.

------

It was a month after his birthday when he learned of his father's death. As with everything he got the news from Drache. Apparently his father had collapsed and was in considerable pain. He was gone before the doctors could do anything to help. He was given more details by the servants, along with the news that he inherited everything that was once his father's. Lezard respected his father enough to set aside days of mourning though he had to physically remove himself from his work to keep away from temptation.

Lezard organized two funerals. Or rather, he told one group about one funeral and had his own private funeral afterward. His father accumulated many friends during his years, and some of them were teachers at Flenceberg Academy. Lezard didn't speak to any of those paying their respects even if they offered him their condolences. They said things like "I'm sorry for your loss", which made Lezard remember something his father said: _These are just words people say_. In other words, they meant nothing. Mystina attended the larger funeral, but she thankfully didn't give him any of those meaningless words.

"So, what do you plan to do with yourself now, little freak?"

"Getting right to the point, eh, Mysty?" he teased her.

"I thought you would appreciate it," she replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "But really, what are your plans? You can't go off searching for the Philosopher's Stone when you have your father's estate to take care of."

"I'll handle it, Mysty," he assured her, "but thank you for the concern."

The other funeral was just him standing in front of his father's grave. He couldn't find anything to say but silence seemed appropriate. Once he finished paying his respects he returned to the mansion to take care of things. He was determined not to enter and instead instructed the servants to bring him what he wanted, or sent his cat and familiar to do the job. Lezard left his home with his father alive, and now it was an empty place with no meaning for him. He cleaned out anything that was of interest to him and moved it to his temporary living quarters. Without those things the mansion was nothing more than a building with no life.

Lezard sold the empty mansion when it no longer felt disrespectful to do so. The servants had a choice to stay with the family that bought the mansion, or go look for work elsewhere. Lezard had no use for servants, nor did he want them.

Flenceberg was no longer a suitable home for him. His temporary living quarters could not hold all of the things he took from home, and he didn't want to take up a permanent residence anywhere. He wanted to be independent of Flenceberg, to have a sanctuary far away from everyone. No place on Midgard would be enough.

He focused all of his magical energy in finding a new place for himself. He delved into books he had previously discarded as useless, dabbled in theories and speculations. Lezard even used his old method of calling on demonic assistance. Though he wanted something private for his use, he wasn't against it being something impressive and possibly intimidating. Of course it would have to be elaborate, like a maze, so trespassers who entered would get lost or go mad once inside.

A construct from another dimension, created by some unknown being of extraordinary magical ability. Such a creation was bound to be filled with secrets. It was perfect.


	16. Destiny

_Chapter Fifteen: Destiny_

The building he now called his home was a complex series of pathways, dead ends, and unopened doors. It could almost be considered a world unto itself. His first steps inside exposed him to ancient magical runes glowing on the walls. Some of them were so complicated it took him a full year in order to break the seal. Only in his wildest fantasies did he ever imagine himself in a place so densely wrapped in magical power. The more he explored the more knowledge he uncovered. It was as if this place existed for the sole purpose of his use.

However, the outside world refused to be ignored despite his best efforts to make his tower the only world. His body was still human and thus craved the necessities of food and sleep. Perhaps just as urgent as his primitive desires for bodily nourishment was the desire for his mind to be nourished as well. He was gathering so much from exploring his tower but he could sense there was still more to be known. The Philosopher's Stone in particular remained as elusive as when he first began searching for it. Clearly gaining more knowledge on his own wasn't going to lead him to his goal. He would have to once again stoop to what he hated most, and seek help from others.

Such a goal would prove to be much harder than it sounded. The only people he could think of to seek out were fellow necromancers, and he was certain they wouldn't expose themselves in public because of their sacrilegious practices. It seemed that the only possible way of finding others like him would be to seek out powerful magicians from around Midgard and learn all he could to find clues that they too studied the forbidden arts. Lezard chose to search away from his home of Flenceberg, wanting no further connections with that place.

Magicians were certainly not rare in Midgard, but finding ones with enough power to master necromancy took some work. Even then it was not enough to tell him who he could approach. He had several potential candidates but could find nothing through research that would lead him to believe they were anything more than powerful magicians. It seemed he had no other choice than to risk investigating these magicians in person. If it went badly he could always kill them. With that in mind he picked the first promising name on his short list.

Lombert of Artolia.

The research he had done showed that this man was an accomplished magician, though for many years now he had been serving in the Artolian court as an advisor to the king. It didn't seem very promising but it was better than nothing. Lezard pulled out a map of Midgard and focused on Artolia's location. It was quite a distance but he could manage if he concentrated. He had been practicing the spell throughout the tower and it had been working flawlessly so far. Granted the distance would be much greater but the same principle should apply regardless. He shifted around in hopes of finding a recent map of Artolia. Luck was with him; he pulled one out and spread it out over the desk.

Lezard closed his eyes and pictured what he had seen on the map. He would have to appear in a spot away from town to avoid detection. According to the map, there was a hill close to town but still far enough for him to arrive without notice. His mind focused on that hill, forming the picture firmly in his mind until he could almost smell the grass. With that image still set in his mind Lezard began to chant the spell. His cape flapped against him as the spell gathered power. He didn't dare break his concentration until his cape settled. Only then did he relax and cracked his eyes open. One look was enough to tell him that he had managed to teleport himself to Artolia. However, the spell had severely drained him and he wouldn't be able to do it again for some time. He was trapped here in this place no matter what the outcome of his meeting with Lombert.

He had little interest in the layout of the town or its people. Sightseeing could be done later after the encounter. For now it was merely a place he had to pass through on his way to the castle. As he weaved through the buildings he formed a story to give the palace guards that would allow him inside. He made it to the gate with confidence brimming inside him. Outwardly he presented a timid persona who was unwilling to lift his head.

"Please let me by, sirs," he begged in an anxious tone. "Please, it's absolutely important!"

"We can't let you pass until we know your business here," said a guard stubbornly.

"Oh, but I'm late enough already," Lezard moaned out, wringing his hands. "Master Lombert will be so furious with me! I was supposed to deliver something very important then come right back!"

"A messenger from Master Lombert?" The two guards turned toward each other and held a whispered conference. Lezard tried to listen while maintaining his act of a whimpering man now on the verge of tears. The longer they took in reaching a decision the more agitated Lezard acted, until he was threatening to hyperventilate. "Look, this guy's nearly in hysterics," one of the guards finally hissed to his companion. "We better just let him go on through." They turned back and the same guard addressed Lezard directly: "You can pass on through. Master Lombert is probably in his study."

"Thank you so much!" Lezard cried, bowing down low before the two guards. "You have no idea how much this means to me." He quickly passed through the gate before they could change their minds. Once he was a safe distance away he could allow the act to drop and expel the laughter he had been holding back. Really, people were so easy to manipulate. He had no idea where Lombet's study would be but he couldn't ask for directions without appearing suspicious. He did know the typical layout of a castle, though, and judged that private rooms would be located on the upper floors.

He still had little sense that this would prove to be a fruitful adventure. So far things had been going well for him but there was still the chance that Lombert would prove to truly be nothing more than a court magician. It would be terribly disappointing, and on top of that he would have to stay here wasting time while he waited for his magic to grow strong enough to get him back home. Certainly not the most appealing of outcomes.

He found a door that was cracked open and decided to investigate. He carefully nudged it open a little wider. "What is it?" snapped an impatient voice. "I'm very busy at the moment." Lezard pushed the door completely open and let himself inside.

"Are you Lombert?" he demanded, eyeing the older man in the room. This place looked like a normal study, complete with shelves of thick volumes and jumbles of papers stacked together. The man sitting behind the large oak desk looked to be much older than Lezard with his hair fading into dull gray. On Lezard's entrance the man rose quickly to his feet.

"Who the hell are you?"

"I believe I asked you first," Lezard said calmly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "However, I will still respond: I am a magician from Flenceberg." The mentioning of Flenceberg had an interesting effect on the older man. His eyes widened in alarm and he grew tense.

"What does a magician from Flenceberg want with me?"

"I wish to speak with you, that's all," Lezard replied smoothly. "I understand that before you became a servant of the Artolian king, you were a powerful magician. I am seeking more knowledge and I hoped I could find that knowledge in you." His explanation didn't ease the older man's tension very much.

"You want me to be your teacher?"

"Nothing like that. I am merely here to propose an exchange: you give me something I want and I will give you something you want." There was a heavy silence as Lombert considered this offer. He crossed around the room so he could study the younger man closely.

"What could you possibly offer me?" he asked. Lezard smiled and held out a bag containing Ghoul Powder. When Lombert looked puzzled, the younger man pulled open the bag so his elder could see the contents. The old man let out a startled gasp and reached for the bag, but Lezard pulled it out of his reach. "Ghoul Powder!" Lombert croaked in amazement.

"It's the real thing, I assure you," Lezard smirked. He closed the bag again and tied it securely at his hip. Lombert's eyes now regarded the young necromancer with interest. "Now that I have your attention, can I be assured that you wish to trade with me?"

"What do you wish to know?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Lezard said at once. "As much information as you can." He expected the older man to look surprised at this request. Instead, Lezard was the surprised one as Lombert considered the request seriously.

"That is very valuable information. Worth much more than a simple bag of Ghoul Powder. You need to offer a more equivalent exchange or there will be no deal." Lezard scowled; the old bastard certainly knew how to negotiate. However, Lezard wasn't out of tricks just yet.

"You are quite right in saying that simple Ghoul Powder is not a fair trade for information on the Stone. But what if I were to tell you that I could make Ghoul Powder that transforms humans into demons? You will agree that such a transformation requires a more complex form of the powder. Of course," he added with a slow smile, "you'll have to take my word for it that it works."

"Indeed," Lombert agreed. "Until I know that it works properly, I'm afraid I can't give you any information on the Stone. However, as a measure of good faith, I am willing to offer you information about Asgard or Yggdrasil."

"Yggdrasil?" Lezard scoffed. "What child doesn't know about the World Tree? I've even been to the place where the entrance is said to be! Nothing you can tell me about Yggdrasil would be of any use to me!" He fell into amused laughter. Lombert waited patiently until the laughter subsided.

"Then I suppose you know how you could get into Yggdrasil," he said quietly.

"Humans cannot enter Yggdrasil, you old fool," Lezard insisted. "Everyone knows that." He was starting to feel irritated. He had used up a great deal of magic coming all this way, and now this fool was wasting his time. "You must think I'm an amateur," Lezard snarled. "I am quite powerful even though I am young. I teleported here all the way from Flenceberg." This revelation brought forth another lengthy pause where the two magicians regarded one another.

"How could one so young master such a powerful spell?" Lombert whispered at last. Lezard made no answer, merely giving the older man a mysterious smile. "The human body cannot enter Yggdrasil, this is true. But if you were to discard your human body, I have no doubt that you could find your way to Yggdrasil."

"That is an interesting theory. But other than dying and being taken by the Valkyries to Valhalla, how would one find their way to the World Tree?"

"That is all I can tell you for a pouch of Ghoul Powder," Lombert said, smirking at the younger man. Lezard gritted his teeth in frustration but knew he could not argue. He untied the pouch and placed it in Lombert's hand. The only remaining card in his hand was the more potent Ghoul Powder, which of course he had been smart enough not to bring along for the first interview.

"That powder will turn any human who consumes it into the undead. Yes," he smirked, when he noticed Lombert's surprise, "I know I said they would become demons. I can indeed make such a substance, but I wasn't foolish enough to bring it with me as my first bargaining chip. This sample is a sign of good faith that you will be giving me much better information in our next encounter. I assure you I will be bringing the more potent Ghoul Powder next time."

"… Well." His lack of words was enough to show how impressed he was by Lezard's ingenuity. "In that case I look forward to our next meeting."

The two worked out a plan so Lezard would have an easy time reaching Lombert when next he came to call. The young man had some time to kill while he waited for his magic to regain enough strength to send him back home. While he waited he toured the town. It was a fairly large city with many shops and houses lining the streets. It was the most contact he'd had with other people in a long time.

Naturally, when he returned back to his tower he shut himself away again. Closing himself off from the outside world was the best way for him to get a task done quickly. Of course going quickly did not mean he would be sloppy; he had to make this powder correctly if he wanted good information out of the older magician. His information about Yggdrasil had been more tantalizing than Lezard would have expected. If Lezard could find a way to dispose of his human body yet keep a hold of his spirit, would he be able to walk upon Yggdrasil and perhaps even Asgard? It was something he would have to test at a later time. His quest for the Stone took highest priority.

It took him several months to make the more potent powder, and once he did Lezard was sure to check that it did indeed work as he had claimed. Once the powder proved itself to be effective (and Lezard disposed of his test subject) he was ready to return to Artolia. Surely this time he could get some information on the Stone. Ghoul Powder that changed humans into demons was a very difficult substance to make, and mistakes could prove to be disastrous for not only the subject but for others as well. One who could master the art _deserved_ to know about the Stone.

That was what he was planning to say if Lombert refused to give him what he wanted. However, when he arrived in the man's study it looked as if he would have to wait. Lombert was away for the moment and he left no message saying when he would return. Feeling immensely irritated, Lezard paced restlessly around the study. He had half a mind to steal the older man's books while he waited. Lezard could have forgiven the other man's absence if only he had some indication of when the other planned on coming back. Lombert knew damn well that Lezard would be arriving shortly. It was rude, and Lezard hated such disrespect for his time and talents.

He paused in his furious pacing as something unusual caught his eye. It looked to be a crystal globe of some kind. Lezard moved closer to examine the object. Inside the globe was a miniature model of Yggdrasil and each of the worlds the Tree supported. Lezard felt overcome with a strange desire to touch the globe. His hand moved forward and he carefully placed a finger over the tiny representation of Midgard.

_A beautiful woman with braided silvery hair stood proudly in the study. She was dressed in armor and bore the helmet of the Valkyries. He could see her face, the fierce light in her eyes, the nobility in her very being. When she spoke her voice carried such force and power. Another was by her side, a man wielding a heavy sword in both hands. Together they fought against someone… a magician, it seemed. Then the man who had fought with the Valkyrie took out a blade and ended his own life._

Lezard stumbled away, shaking from the experience. What had that been? A premonition? He never knew he had such a power. The image of the battle-maiden still burned in his mind's eye. Lezard never thought very much of females, considering them to be weak and useless. But this battle-maiden was much more than a woman. She was a beautiful, noble goddess who gathered souls to be her Einherjar. She had wielded such power in that vision and even in her fierce anger she was strikingly beautiful. Lezard already longed to see her again. He touched the globe but nothing happened this time. No visions came to him. It seemed he would have to find her another way.

Lezard left the pouch of Ghoul Powder on Lombert's desk. It could not be considered an equivalent exchange but it was all he brought. Somehow seeing her had opened his mind. He knew where the Stone was hidden, how to find it, how to use it. He would need it if he were to see her again.

Her name was Lenneth Valkyrie, and she belonged to him.


End file.
